


I Realize That Nothing's as it Seems

by Meddalarksen, victoriousscarf



Category: Cats - Andrew Lloyd Webber, The Mummy (1999)
Genre: 1920s, Adventure Tropes, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Alternate Universe - Historical, Ancient Egypt, In Which we try to do the Middle East justice, Macavity is not, Middle East, Multi, Munkustrap and Tugger are brothers, Tugger as an older sibbling, nomads
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-20
Updated: 2013-01-23
Packaged: 2017-11-14 16:04:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 37,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/517116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meddalarksen/pseuds/Meddalarksen, https://archiveofourown.org/users/victoriousscarf/pseuds/victoriousscarf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Having sworn to never return to the ruins out in the middle of the desert, Coricopat is somewhat put out when Macavity agrees to guide a librarian and a treasure seeker through the desert in return for their lives.</p><p>Except they were right not to return, as a cursed creature waits below the sands, as well as the tribe sworn to prevent it's rising, which will bring the apocalypse in it's wake.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. You Ever Notice You’re the Only One I Can Ever Trust

Leaning against the pommel of his horse, Mistoffelees glanced between the British troops already in the ruins and the other army rushing towards them. “They won’t survive,” Jemima remarked beside him.

The dark haired man looked over at her, raising a brow. “A vision?” he asked.

She shook her head, pushing the strand of hair back that always escaped the hood all the tribe wore while on duty looking over Hamunaptra. “No vision,” she replied. “Simply a fact. You know as well as I do that armies fighting over the Holy City inevitably fail. How many would you think would survive?”

Pouncival spoke from Mistoffelees’ other side, “None so far.  They’ll kill each other and any that survive won’t last a day in the desert.”

“It’s better if we make sure the desert doesn’t have to deal with them, though,” Tumblebrutus remarked quietly, running his fingers through a knot in his horse’s mane.

Mistoffelees glanced over at the pair. “Do you honestly think any would be left for the desert?” Jemi huffed.

“If they are, our duty is to protect the city from outsiders,” Mistoffelees replied. “We must make sure the Creature doesn’t rise, and that the treasure remains where it is. I don’t care about stragglers.”

“They must not lead others back here,” Jemima pointed out, turning to her leader, who was young though well experienced.

“We will wait,” Mistoffelees returned. “To see how the battle fairs.”

o-o-o-o

Coricopat sighted down the barrel of his rifle at the oncoming army, glancing briefly at his friend next to him, “Macavity, remind me why I let you talk me into this again?”

“I think there was a lot less of me talking you into anything and more laying out how much they were paying us and how bloody boring everything else is,” Macavity replied, glancing at the other solider beside them. “You’re not going to run off on me, Plato, are you?”

“Of course not, sir,” the slighter man replied, looking queasy at the army approaching. “I’m with you all the way.”

“Good,” Macavity said and turned toward Coricopat again from where they were crouched in front of a crumbling, yellow stone wall. “We’ll get through this yet, and we’ll be rich for it. Just calm yourself down.”

“Do you see me panicking?”  Coricopat replied testily.  “Give the word and I’ll give them lead, Mac.  And I won’t be coming out again, no matter how much they offer to pay.  This city is no place for the living.”

“Only have to come out once, Cor, to get paid,” Macavity grinned, looking up and down his lines. “Hold steady!” he yelled as several of the Egyptian soldiers under his command started to balk, looking ready to run

“We’re not going to be able to hold this line very long, Mac,” his friend murmured, focusing on the army still advancing on them even as he sensed the man on his other side tensing to run.

“Well,” Macavity started to say that they’d find a way to hold it as long as they could even as Plato suddenly turned and run into the ruins. “You’re kidding me…”

“Oh he’s a courageous one, isn’t he?  The second he’s faced with danger he bolts.”  Coricopat sighed, shaking his head, “Let’s take a few of them down with us.”

“That’s always the plan,” Macavity agreed, lifting the gun higher. “Ready!” he called down his line, the remaining soldiers aiming. “Fire!” he yelled, the front line of the soldiers rushing toward them falling from their horses.

The battle raged for several harsh minutes, the men on horses breaking the line Macavity had so desperately tried to hold together. Finally, with a snarl, he abandoned his post, grabbing Coricopat’s suspenders and dragging him along with him as they fled deeper into the ruins of the city. “Accursed place,” Macavity panted, turning a corner quickly to avoid a gun shot.

Coricopat drew a gasping breath, reaching for his revolver and pressing his back against a stone pillar, “Next time there’s the slightest inkling of ‘no one who’s ever gone there has survived’ it doesn’t matter how much they offer.  We’re not taking the job.”

“Sounds solid,” Macavity nodded. “I’ll be happy to see the back of this place,” he said, spotting Plato in front of them, slamming a heavy door to keep the soldiers out. “Don’t you dare!” Macavity thundered, putting on an extra sprint only to run himself into the door as Plato finished closing it. “Cor, you ever notice you’re the only one I can ever trust?”

His friend scowled, ducking around a corner to avoid more gunfire, “Mac, you ever notice I’m the only one stupid enough to stick around after you’ve nearly gotten me killed a dozen times?”

“Well, I suppose there’s that too,” Macavity agreed as a troupe of horse riders rounded the corner. “You know, I might even take the Western Front over this,” he said, scrambling across the door and taking off again, deeper into the ruins.

“I’d rather die here than on those fields,” Coricopat replied, bolting after his friend, stumbling and recovering quickly.  He glanced over his shoulder briefly and dodged around another corner, moving more on instinct than with any particular direction, “Damn it, Macavity.  We survive this and I’ll kill you myself.”

“That doesn’t give me much incentive to survive now does it?” Macavity asked. “Or, rather, incentive to make sure you come out alive ‘cause apparently if I’m to live you’ll have to be taken out,” he panted, skidding around another corner as several bullets rattled off by his feet, slamming forward and into the leg of a statue. Staggering back he looked up into the stone cold eyes of a jackal head on a human body.

Coricopat rounded the corner, staggering to a halt at the sight of the Anubis statue, “Well, let’s see, we’re being shot at, and we’re completely surrounded by the desert.  We’ll be dead before we make it back to the city either way.  I wouldn’t worry about doing me in.”  He ducked behind the statue quickly as more shots were fired, “Damn it don’t they ever give up?”

Macavity yelled as the soldiers advanced, only to blink when suddenly the horses stumbled back, dropping several of their riders who then ran away on foot. “Um,” Macavity frowned, looking around the legs of the statue to where Coricopat was crouching. “What was—?” he started to ask before stumbling back against the statue again as the ground suddenly starting moving beneath him, the sand forming into a face that opened its mouth wide an roared, much as Macavity had moments before.

Using the leverage of his back against the statue’s legs, Macavity pushed off, taking off again, his former breathlessness entirely forgotten in lieu of this new terror. This time he only hoped Coricopat was still behind him.   His friend was hot on his heels, darting from behind the statue to take off back the way they’d come toward the desert and across the vast expanse of sand.  Never again, Coricopat mentally swore.  Never again was he following Macavity into a place that was evidently cursed.

Up on the ridge overlooking the city, Mistoffelees frowned down at the two retreating figures. They not only knew how to enter the city, but he’d felt the pull of the Creature’s scream from within the ruins, and he worried that someone they’d tread on the tomb, stirring the Creature but not awakening it.

He shouldn’t let them walk away into the desert.

o-o-o-o

Munkustrap balanced precariously on a ladder in the library wing of the Egyptian Museum trying to return the books in his arms to their proper place.  He re-shelved most of them, finding himself with a last volume in hand and turned on the ladder to see that it belonged behind him on the other shelf.  Stretching to put it back, he managed to set it briefly on the correct shelf before it slipped and his ladder swayed for a moment before it off-balanced.  Catching hold of the bookshelf to keep from falling did not have the desired effect and instead sent the shelf crashing into the next one, creating a room-sized reenactment of a domino chain as the bookshelves collided with one another until they were all fallen around the room, leaving him to stare in shock at the disaster that surrounded him.

The sounds drew the museum’s curator out of his office, and soon enough he was staring in wide eyed, slack jawed astonishment at the room. “What in the name of all that is holy in the world happened here?” Bustopher Jones thundered, searching for his assistant in the mess of books and shelves, finding him standing in the middle of the room, mostly untouched which was less then could be said of many of the books. “Good god man, the other plagues are a joy compared to you!”

Munkustrap flinched, turning to face the curator, “I’m sorry, Mr. Jones.  It was an accident, I was re-shelving the books and, well…it was an accident,” he repeated weakly.

“When Ramses destroyed Syria, that was an accident. You sir,” Jones said, stepping forward to stare down Munkustrap. “Are a catastrophe!”

His assistant took a half step back at that, “I…I’m sorry, sir.  I’ll, I’ll just get this cleaned up then shall I?”

“Cleaned up?” Jones demanded, before, “Cleaned up?” he asked, higher pitched each moment. “Cleaned up? What on Earth makes you think that I would agree to let you stay on after a display such as this?”

“I, well, I,” the younger man drew himself together, “I can read and translate Ancient Egyptian better than anyone else you’ve ever spoken with.  I’m also the only person capable of properly categorizing this library so that you can find things once the books are re-shelved.”

“Except for that requires the books to be re-shelved in the first place,” Jones pointed out. “Which would not have happened except for your interference.”

“I was re-shelving them, sir.  And I’ll get the library returned to its original state. You have my word.  Please, sir, I can do this job.”

Jones narrowed his eyes further. “All evidence to the contrary you mean.”

Munkustrap flinched again, “I’ll put it to rights, sir.  Please, I need this job.”

“Of course you do,” Jones sighed. “And perhaps if I didn’t think so highly of your father we wouldn’t be having this conversation. But if you do anything of this sort again I won’t have much of a choice in your continued employment. Because I won’t be able to afford it!”

Swallowing, he nodded, “Of course, Mr. Jones.  I understand.”  He hesitated before moving to start moving some of the books out of the way so that he might have a chance of setting the shelves back up.

Jones watched him a moment before shaking his head and stalking back to his office. As Munkustrap worked on putting the library back to sorts, several loud sounds came resounding from the back of the museum, where several displays of Egyptian artifacts were out.

Startling at the noises, Munkustrap hesitated before moving toward the display room.  He lit a lantern and moved carefully through the artifacts, “Hello?  Mr. Jones?  Is…anyone there?”

Instead of another answer, there was another rattle, sounding suspiciously like it was coming out of one of the sarcophaguses. The young Egyptologist took a hesitant step nearer, “Hello?” He paused before resting a hand on the edge of the sarcophagus, raising the lantern to see better in the area, “Is-is anyone there?”

Suddenly one of the mummies in the exhibit sat bolt upright, waving one decayed arm around wildly in Munkustrap’s face. The librarian yelped, startling back and dropping his lantern, “God in Heaven!”

A laughing man sat up behind the mummy, sticking a cigarette in its mouth, shaking out of his head of hair, still laughing. “Your face…” he chortled.

Munkustrap’s eyes narrowed and he hit the other man hard in the shoulder, “Tugger!  Get out of there.  Have you no respect for the dead at all?”

“They’re dead, they don’t need it anymore,” he replied, using the mummy’s hand to wave at his younger brother.

“Except for the curses and the cost and the—would you get out of the sarcophagus?  The last thing I need right now is Jones walking in here and seeing you assaulting the artifacts.  I’ve…I’ve made rather a mess in the library and don’t have time for this,” Munkustrap glanced over his shoulder toward the doorway to the library.

“You made a mess?” Tugger laughed. “Surely you aren’t my brother. I’m surprised Jones is still keeping you around. Must be all that money mum and dad left him, huh?”

Munkustrap pursed his lips, trying not to look hurt at that, “I happen to be invaluable for my translating abilities.  If you’ve nothing useful to contribute, though, you are more than welcome to leave.  Now.”

The older brother pouted. “Come on, Munku, I haven’t seen you in ages and this is how you treat me? Besides, I found something I wanted to—”

“Oh not another one!”  His brother snapped, “If I have to take another one of your useless, worthless trinkets to Jones I might as well just hand in my resignation.”

A hurt look crossed Tugger’s face and then it was gone. “I mean—I found this one in a dig in Thebes,” he protested, pulling something from his pocket and handing it over. “I swear it’s not—I’ve been looking for five years and I’ve never found anything. Please tell me I’ve found something.”

Munkustrap sighed, taking the small box and considering it.  He looked it over carefully before placing his fingers on four points at the edge and pressing down.  The box snapped open, eight triangle flaps flipping back to reveal a carefully folded parchment inside.  Lifting the parchment cautiously, the dark-haired brother smiled faintly, “Tugger?  I, I think you’ve found something.”

“Really?” Tugger asked, finally scrambling out of the sarcophagus to peer over Munkustrap’s shoulder. “What’s that paper? Open it!”

Handing the box back, Munkustrap unfolded the parchment, revealing a map.  He scanned over the hieroglyphs on the page, his blue eyes widening as he did so, “Really, Tugger.  You’ve found something.”

“Do you think it will involve treasure?” Tugger asked hopefully.

Moments later, Munkustrap herded his brother into Jones’ office. The curator of the museum glanced up from behind his wide wooden desk, several bookshelves immaculate behind him. His black and white streaked hair was curled over his ears, a faded tattoo barely visible below one earlobe. “And what could this possibly be?” he asked, unimpressed with seeing Tugger.

Munkustrap took the puzzle box from his brother, setting it on Jones’ desk before circling the desk and holding out the map, “He’s actually managed to find something, sir.  Based on the inking and the parchment used my initial guess would place this in the Seti dynasty.  I’ve taken the liberty of working through most of the hieroglyphs already, and it’s a rare find indeed.”  He pointed to the last symbol, “This, right here.  This is the cartouche for Hamunaptra.  I’m certain of it.”

Something snapped cold behind Jones’ eyes as he looked back down at the map. “Surely not,” he drawled, considering the parchment. “That is a legend, a myth as you should well know.”

“But—” Tugger started to protest. “If you just look, and there’s even this key,” he added, holding said key up from where it was on the desk.

“A key,” Jones repeated, in the same bland and slightly derisive tone. “A map and a key to a wild goose chase for treasure underneath the sand. I thought you were smarter than this,” he added, leveling Munkustrap with a long look.

His librarian flinched almost imperceptibly at that, “Sir, I know my Ancient Egyptian.  I know my myths, my legends.  I also know my hieroglyphs.  _If_ Hamunaptra actually existed, think of the history that could be unearthed.  The decades of information that we could be missing.  This is the mark for the city, and the treasures that could exist there—even in the form of buildings—could change how we view whole dynasties.”

“The treasure!” Tugger added. Jones’ gaze turned even colder.

“Yes,” he agreed with a drawl. “The history.” Holding the map up to look at it again, he passed one of the corners across the candle on his desk, setting the corner that depicted the city in question on fire. “Oh,” he said, dropping the map on the ground, Tugger desperately trying to put the fire out to save the map.

Munkustrap instinctively moved to his brother’s side, picking up the map once it was extinguished.  Most of it was still intact, but the corner with the city was completely eradicated.  He looked up at his employer for a long moment, sighing as he brushed the ash away from the carpet in front of the desk, “Perhaps you’re right, sir.”  Glancing toward the clock, he rose to his feet, “I believe I’m off for the day?  I’ll be in early tomorrow to see about finishing up the library, sir.”

Jones looked for a moment like he wanted to demand Munkustrap remain at the library, either to finish fixing it, or at the very least to keep both the brothers somewhere he could see them.”Many people have tried and died looking for that city,” he said, leveling them both with a look. “I would hate to see your bleached bones added to the desert.”

Munkustrap offered him an innocent blink at that, “Sir, we’ve a destroyed map found at a dig in Thebes.  We would be foolish indeed to even consider pursuit of the city.  Now, if you’ll excuse us?”

“Of course,” Jones muttered, not looking like he believed the younger brother for a moment. He’d heard the older lie too many times, and fully believed Munkustrap had picked up more then he would ever admit. Instead of pushing the issue, he simply waved them off with one hand. “Tomorrow then.”

Inclining his head, Munkustrap caught his elder brother’s sleeve and pulled him out of the curator’s office, pausing only long enough to pick up his coat and hat from the library before leaving the museum, “Well, I suppose that’s an end to it then.”

“Are you kidding?” Tugger said, looking over. “Not nearly. You can’t just dangle that much treasure in front of me and say it’s over. I think I have another avenue we could explore.”

“Do I want to know what avenue we’re talking about?”  Munkustrap eyed him warily.

“Well, I think I left the avenue on its way to the prison, so maybe?” Tugger offered. “Come on, let’s go.”

“The prison?”  The younger brother’s eyes narrowed, “You told me it was a dig in Thebes, you bastard.”

“You should know when I’m lying,” Tugger replied breezily. “I’ve done it often enough haven’t I? Anyway, I lifted it off him during a card game. He was a bit drunk at the time, we should hurry.”

Scowling and following his brother, Munkustrap muttered something about the fact that he shouldn’t _need_ to be able to tell when Tugger was lying, “And do you expect this avenue that you pick pocketed to actually be willing to just tell you where _he_ got it?”

“Well, he was drunk, wasn’t he?” Tugger grinned. “He probably wouldn’t remember and who’s to say I pick pocketed it, huh? Found it on the street corner I did. Anyway, as I said, let’s get there a little bit faster.”

Munkustrap stepped through the gate to the prison yard first, offering his brother a long look, “You said ‘lifted’.  What’s he in here for?”

“Um, I’m not sure actually,” Tugger said, looking around for a warden, and described the red-haired American that he was looking for. The warden of the prison gave him a long look before shrugging and leading them over to one of the open aired cells, where several guards pulled said red-haired American out to be questioned by the obviously British and hopefully rich guests.

Munkustrap paused, looking over the American.  He straightened his suit coat and glanced at his brother with an arched eyebrow before taking a step nearer to the bars.  He only hoped he could come up with a viable reason to be asking about the puzzle box.

“Well, you have me as a captive audience,” Macavity drawled. “Whattda want?” One of the guards behind him pushed his head forward against the bars for his insolence, and Macavity turned a glare on him, not appearing to be in any real pain but deeply annoyed.

Shooting a look at the guard, Munkustrap drew a breath to speak, “Well, you see, my brother and I happened upon your, well your puzzle box and we were hoping to ask you a couple of questions about it.”

“My puzzle—” Macavity paused, turning a narrow eyed look over at Tugger. “Don’t I recognize you?”

“I highly doubt it,” Tugger replied innocently, and Macavity didn’t look like he believed him for a moment, but turned back toward Munkustrap anyway.

“Well then,” he drawled. “You have my puzzle box. Not really much of a puzzle though, I’m sure a bright lad like you would have it opened. So what would you need me for?”

Munkustrap ran a hand over the back of his neck, tangling it briefly in the short hairs at the nape of his neck, “Well, I was wondering where you got it?”

Macavity’s eyes followed that motion, attention drawn to Munkustrap’s neck. “Well, at Hamunaptra. When I was there.”

The librarian’s blue eyes widened at that and he lowered both his hand and his voice, “You mean to tell me that you’ve actually been to Hamunaptra?  You’ve seen the legendary city?”

“Seen it, ran around in it, saw a whole lot of people die in it too,” Macavity said, eyes narrowed. “So what on Earth would someone like you want there, huh?”

“Well, there’s, you see if the legends are true there’s a book.  A very particular volume buried there.  The advances it could make in our understanding of the Ancient Egyptians are astronomical,” his eyes had lit up and his expression had become more animated as he spoke.

Tugger glanced over at him and huffed. “And the fact it’s solid gold has nothing to do with your interest, right?” Macavity leveled him with a long look. “So what’re you doing here for? Open the box, and there’s a map innit there?”

“Well,” Munkustrap bit his lower lip.  “There is still sort of.  It…it’s sustained a bit of damage toward the last bit.  Rather completely obliterated the final leg of the journey.”

“Good for it,” Macavity said, smirking. “It’s for the best anyway.”

“You said you were actually there?” Tugger asked, sounding more excited. “Like, you were actually there? So you would know the way?”

“I’d never forget it,” Macavity replied, frowning at him again.

Munkustrap stepped hard on his brother’s foot, speaking carefully, “Could you, well, tell us how to get there?”

“You want me to tell you how to get there?” Macavity asked, looking around and then gesturing Munkustrap forward.

He hesitated, but neared so he was nearly touching the bars, nodding very slightly, “Yes, if you would?”

Macavity’s hand darted forward, through the bars, grabbing Munkustrap by the shirt front and yanking him forward, planting a half desperate kiss on his mouth. As much as he could, he tilted his head to press deeper. The Englishman startled at the kiss, his mouth slipping open against the other’s lips even as he tried to pull back from it. Using that to his advantage, Macavity opened his mouth further, only for the guards to finally figure out was happening in front of them, yanking the American back by his shirt. “Then get me out of here!” Macavity hissed as he was pulled roughly back.

Munkustrap stumbled back from the bars, running his thumb over his lips, though whether to wipe the kiss away or to mark it in his memory he wasn’t quite certain.  He turned to his brother, his blue eyes wide, and hoped that the faint color on his cheeks could be attributed to the heat, “Tugger, we… We don’t have much choice do we?”

Tugger finally blinked over at his brother from where he was still gaping after the red-haired American. “What? You want to—no. Absolutely not. We’re not getting him out after that, he—” Tugger turned to the warden. “What did he do anyway?”

“He said he was just looking for a good time,” the warden replied, shrugging and looking after him as he was dragged off.

“And… and where is he going?” Tugger managed, still trying to make his brain work.

“To be hanged,” the warden shrugged again. “Apparently he had a _very_ good time.”

Munkustrap caught his brother’s sleeve at that, hissing under his breath, “Do you want to find the city or not?  He’s the only clue we have.  The only route there we have.”

“But he,” Tugger protested, gesturing wildly after him. “He’s going to be hanged? That’s not really inspiring is it? Is the city worth something like that? Not to mention the fact that he just—” He gave up, simply shaking his head.

“So we keep him away from me as much as possible if that’s a worry for you.  Do you have any idea what the discovery of the book could mean?  It would secure so much, not to mention the other treasure that’s said to be buried there,” the younger brother was close to begging.

“It’s not—who knows what he could have done, Munkus!” Tugger said. “You want to go and save a murderer?”

“Then ask!  If it wasn’t murder then we’ll try and get him free.  Yes?  I refuse to come this close, to make a fool of myself in front of Jones _again_ , and not at least try.”

“I have no idea what it was and that warden wasn’t really being the must—where’d he go?” Tugger asked, turning around and watching where quite a few figures were disappearing. “You know, actually, if you’re going on a quest to save the guy’s life, you might want to hurry.”

Munkustrap hesitated for the briefest of moments before grabbing Tugger by the arm and pulling him with him to try and negotiate the American’s release.  He let go of his brother when they finally caught up to the warden so that he could catch the other man’s arm, “Sir, wait! I can offer you one hundred gold pieces if you’ll stop this execution.”

“I’d pay that much to see him hang,” the warden scoffed, Tugger jogging to catch up with his brother as the warden lead them through a doorway toward where a scaffold was set up in the middle of the prison, all the other cells open to see what was happening below.

“Two hundred then,” Munkus offered, calculating the money that his parents had left him that Tugger hadn’t touched with his gambling, in addition to what he had put away.

The warden blinked as Tugger gaped at him. “Please,” the warden barely managed to scoff when confronted with all that wealth. He motioned for the guards to continue and they dragged a struggling Macavity forward.

Gaze darting toward the prisoner, Munkustrap drew a steadying breath, “He knows the way to Hamunaptra.  If you release him we’ll give you ten percent of what we find there.”

“Hamun—” the warden considered. “That is just a myth. You wish me to release a man on your word he knows the way to a legend?” The man considered again. “Fifty percent and the money you already offered me.”

Munkustrap’s eyes narrowed, “Fif _teen_ and the gold you’ve been offered.”

The entire prison was silent, hanging on the negotiations. Macavity suddenly started motioning frantically, as much as he could toward another figure who stood on the ground nearby, trying to express he wasn’t leaving without the other. Tugger blinked at that, before tugging on Munkustrap’s arm where the other was so focused. “You might want to pay attention,” he said, pointing down.

The younger brother startled at the touch, his gaze darting to the prisoner and then the slender, angular man he was motioning to.  His eyes widened slightly and he gaped at the American before recovering and turning back to the warden, pointing to the second prisoner, “Twenty percent, the amount you’ve been offered and that one comes as well.”

The warden scoffed. “You’re bargaining for two lives now?”

“Yes,” Tugger said, finally coming to his brother’s help. “Ten percent for each, and a hundred gold for each. You’re acting like you could afford to let them hang, but let’s be honest now, you want the money and the treasure, so you might as well just take what we’re offering.”

“It’s more than you could get for their corpses,” Munkustrap pointed out.  “After all, even after they’re hung all they’re worth is more cost to you to dispose of them.  This way you gain from them rather than not.”

The warden frowned. “Thirty percent and I’ll let them both go.”

Tugger looked horrified for a second before nodding and standing. “Done! Thirty percent!” He waited for the warden to motion for both the prisoners to be let go before adding. “Thirty percent with no extra gold since that’s all you asked for,” and scampered away quickly, dragging Munkustrap with him quickly and meeting the two prisoners down by the gates, ushering them along quickly.

Munkustrap glanced at his brother, “I forget how sly you can be sometimes.”  He glanced at the American and at the other former prisoner, “Well, you’re out now.  I believe we had a bargain?”

The second prisoner’s grey eyes narrowed.  When he spoke, his voice held a cultured British accent that wouldn’t have been out of place at Eton, “Bargain?  What did you promise them, Mac?  Do I want to know?”

“I’m going to think probably not,” Macavity said, rubbing his neck before smirking over at Munkustrap, Tugger narrowing his eyes at the look. “They picked that damn key off me,” he added, giving Tugger a returning narrow eyed look. “Or rather that one did. And since they burned the map, they want to know the way to Hamunaptra.”

Coricopat’s eyes widened, “No.  Absolutely not.  I’m going back and ask that warden to hang me, thank you very much, but no.”

“Is…”  Munkustrap spoke quietly, “I believe we’ve missed something?”

“There’s something out there, and I am not interested in meeting it again,” Coricopat said frankly.

“You’re just paranoid,” Macavity shrugged. “I’m sure we’ll be fine, we’re just showing the way. Then they can deal with whatever’s out there on their own. Come on, Cor,” he said, knocking the other’s shoulder. “Smile for the nice people.”

The expression he offered was closer to a grimace, “Well, if we’re going we’ll need passage on a boat first.  Who is arranging that?”

Munkustrap glanced between them, “I have to alert the curator at the museum that I’m leaving for a time, if one of you could see to it?”

“We’ll see to it,” Macavity said quickly, grabbing Coricopat’s upper arm and holding on. “We’ll meet you at the docks tomorrow morning, eight. Try not to be late, ships tend to like to leave early.”

The librarian nodded, “We’ll be there.  Good night, gentlemen.”

Coricopat offered Macavity a dark look and tried to wrench his arm away, “I’m not going to do something any more stupid than you just did.  Let go.”

“That’s not even the worst of it,” Macavity said, dragging him away toward the docks. “I kissed him too.”

“You did what? Which one?  And why the hell would you think that was a good idea, you git?”

“The posh one,” Macavity replied. “Who failed at negotiations, not the one that picked my pocket. But it got us out of there didn’t it? Either he’s a greedy bastard after treasure, or I can kiss just that good.”

“Or he’s got some strange streak of compassion that doesn’t want to see people like you hanged,” Coricopat muttered.  “So, we’re going off to a cursed city with someone who picked your pocket and someone who we don’t understand at all, but who you were willing to kiss.  This is going to go swimmingly.”

“Come on, Cor,” Macavity grinned. “We should have a good time.”

“Which nearly got us hung last time,” he rolled his eyes.

“Don’t forget the time before that,” Macavity grinned. “But who knows, maybe this time will be different. Have a sense of adventure.” Ignoring Coricopat’s look, he weaved his way through the crowd toward the docks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title taken from Sting's "Desert Rose" because VS has been in love that song almost as long as she has the Mummy--even though the song is inspired by Dune which is a very different desert story the imagery can still be applied. 
> 
> Character death is tricky in a story based vaguely off an old horror movie. It might not be "Major" but it's best to be on the safe side.


	2. Is He Always Like This?

Munkustrap turned around, walking backwards as he spoke to his brother, “Oh, come off it, Tugger.  Cheer up and think of what’s waiting on the other end of this journey.  Everything will be fine, I don’t know what’s got you so wound up right now.  It’s needless.”

“Needless?” Tugger huffed, voice growing higher. “Needless? The man in a criminal, and apparently has no issue with kissing other men—namely you! Who’s to say he won’t rape you in the desert and leave us to die, huh?”

“I can take care of myself, Tugger.  And are you really going to pass up the treasure of not one Pharaoh but several because you’re worried?”  Munkustrap shook his head, “I appreciate your concern, but think of it.  We’d be set for life.”

“Remind me exactly how much treasure we’re talking about?” Tugger asked, looking around the dock. “God, we’ll never find them here. I bet they’re going to jilt us.”

“Dynasties worth of treasure, Tugger.”  He glanced at his watch, “They’ve got a few minutes yet before they—”

“You weren’t going to say ‘late’ were you, sir?”  Coricopat’s voice came from where he’d appeared by Tugger’s elbow.

“Yeah, I’m curious to who you think is going to rape anyone and leave them for dead in the desert,” Macavity added, a gunny sack slung over one shoulder. He’d had a good wash since the day in prison, as well as a hair trim and a shave, looking much more like he had several years ago in the desert—as a dashing adventurer with a glint of danger in his eyes.

Munkustrap’s brows rose, his mouth falling open slightly until Coricopat offered him a wry look, “Catch many flies like that?”

He snapped his mouth shut and swallowed before speaking, “It’s good to see you two early here.  Which boat was it again?”

Macavity arched a brow at Coricopat and then back to Munkustrap, Tugger glowering behind his brother’s shoulder. “This lovely creature,” he said, waving a hand back at a slightly decrepit boat which was lilting to one side. “Cheap, fast, and under the radar.”

“Certainly under the radar,” Munkustrap remarked, eyeing the boat warily.

“But fast, which we’ll need,” Coricopat cut in.  “Shall we get aboard before the captain decides to sail without us?”

“Come along,” Macavity said, slinging his free arm around Munkustrap’s waist and leading him along. “We got two cabins, figured we could share that between the four of us.”

“I’ll be sharing with my brother,” Tugger protested.

Munkustrap startled at the contact, nodding slightly, “Tugger’s right, it would be best to divide the cabins up that way, sir.”

“I have to admit I’m in agreement with them, Macavity,” Coricopat said, keeping an eye on his friend.

Macavity smirked, trailing his hand up Munkustrap’s back. “Well of course. Did I ever say or imply that any other arrangements should be made?”

The librarian’s eyes widened and his gaze darted toward Macavity, “No, I didn’t mean to imply you had.  Where are these berths?”

“This way,” Macavity said, leaning forward slightly to turn a sharp corner in the small boat, brushing his breath closer to Munkustrap’s ear.

“He has no shame or dignity, does he?” Tugger asked, glancing at Coricopat.

The brunet sighed, watching the other two as he shook his head, “Never has.  Not as long as I’ve known him.”

Munkustrap startled again, drawing away from the other man, “Sir, if you don’t mind.”

“Mind what?” Macavity asked, entirely innocently before he pushed open a door. “And your berth. Believe me, you want this one. The other’s even smaller,” he said, motioning to the bunk beds and single table in the room. “Come on Cor, let’s set up.”

Stepping into the cabin, Munkustrap placed space between himself and Macavity, turning to watch Coricopat step up next to the red-head.  Coricopat glanced in and shook his head, “We’ll see you later, gentlemen.”  He stepped past Macavity toward where their cabin was.

Macavity smirked at him one more time before turning and slipping into his own berth across the hall.

o-o-o-o

That evening Macavity carried his sack with him through the ship up to the deck, spotting Tugger playing cards with several other passengers. He pegged them easily as Americans and started looking around for Munkustrap, and not seeing him, approached Tugger, taking one look at the other’s hand trying not to laugh, since it was obvious he was cheating.

“Where’s your brother?” he asked softly and Tugger just glared at him.

“Don’t you gamble?” the blonde, young American woman wearing breeches asked.

“Only with my life,” Macavity replied, grinning broadly at her and she flushed slightly.

“Rather high stakes you play for then,” the dark-haired American sitting across from Tugger remarked, his sharp eyes darting up to Macavity.

The third American glanced up, “What do you say to one little wager about who’ll reach Hamunaptra first?”

“Reach—” Macavity shot a glare at Tugger. “Well, no need to ask how you heard where we were going. Fine. Five hundred dollars says we get there first.”

“Deal,” the one across from Tugger drawled.

“You’ll find yourselves losing that money, we’ve got ourselves someone as has actually been there,” the other American man remarked to Macavity as he considered his cards.

“Really? So ha—” Tugger started and Macavity hit him on the back of the head.

“Then we’ll have to see, won’t we?” he grinned. “Now where is your brother?”

Tugger blinked at him and shrugged. “He was taking a walk over there,” he motioned.

“Great,” Macavity said, heading that way, his gunny sack slung over one shoulder.

Munkustrap was leaning against the rail on the other side of the ship, his gaze focused on the dark shore opposite.  He glanced in the direction of Macavity’s footsteps, “Good evening, sir.”

“Evenin’,” Macavity grunted, dropping his sack on one of the tables, set up near the railing of the ship as if the owners had once hoped people would take meals out. Rolling it open, the sack was shown to contain several rifles, an elephant gun, revolvers and pistols, a pry bar and what looked like a lock pick set, on top of several daggers.

The Englishman’s brows rose sharply, “Did I miss the memorandum that we were headed into war?”

“Always does to be prepared,” Macavity replied, starting to take apart and clean the elephant gun. “Besides, going back to that city? Might as well be going to war. Left enough dead back there.”

“Do you always assume the worst is going to happen?  That guns will actually help against anything?”

“Yes and yes,” Macavity nodded, looking up from beneath his brow, considering Munkustrap. “Guns are the only thing trustworthy in this world and I’m thinking you don’t have a damn clue what you’re walking into. Your head’s so full of treasure you’ve blinded yourself to the reality.”

“Treasure has nothing to do with my interest,” he replied stiffly.  “And if you mean that myth of a curse or what have you, I’ve read it, heard it, and been warned against it.  Guns will do no good against that.”

Macavity snapped the gun together, pointing it at Munkustrap and looking through the sight of it at the other’s face. “If you believe in such a myth, why are you walking into the gates of hell unarmed?”

“Weapons to battle something like that exist in knowledge, not in the physical.”  He leaned his elbows against the rail, considering the American, “Not everything can be defeated by lead and steel.  Nor can everything be explained by sight and logic.”

Snorting, Macavity set the large gun down, taking apart the revolvers next. As he spoke, he cleaned one and put it back together. “So you’re admittin’ there’s something out there? What’s worth it to you out there?” he asked. “Because I was in the French Legion, you know. When we heard about this damned city, we took off across the desert, coming all the way from Libya with no damned orders to see what we could find. Do you know how many people walked out of that city alive?”

“I’ll hazard a guess and say two.  Your friend evidently has been there, and you say you have as well.  I, well, I’m hoping to find the book, find myself somewhat too I suppose,” he sighed, turning away from the American to look over the Nile again.

“Find yourself,” Macavity scoffed, tossing one of the revolvers toward him. “You’ll want this.”

He caught the revolver, offering the other a cold look as he considered the gun, “I hate these things.”

“That’s cute,” Macavity rolled his eyes. “So you’re looking for a book. For knowledge, right? The fact it’s solid gold has nothing to do with it then?”

“My brother’s the one to care for the gold,” Munkustrap murmured, his tone growing quieter as they talked.

“Sure,” Macavity said. “Is that what you tell yourself to go to sleep every night? That you’re after knowledge and not gold?” He couldn’t help but smirk. “What else do you have to do to get to sleep?”

“Take a sleeping draught and remind myself that I have some sort of purpose and use in this world beyond shelving books and sorting papers,” he answered icily.

“Just that?” Macavity asked, giving him a look, almost unreadable. “No thoughts of other people?” He suddenly looked back down and cleaned a dagger

Munkustrap’s gaze moved back to Macavity, something closing off in his expression, “No, sir.  No thoughts of other people.  Only a hope for a dreamless night.”

“And if you don’t get one, what do you dream of?” Macavity inquired, unsure if he was leering or genuinely curious.

“Ancient Egypt.  I have since I was a boy,” Munkustrap admitted, looking toward the shore again.  “I’m sure there are others as well, but I rarely recall them.”

Macavity arched a brow. “Ancient Egypt huh? And what do you do while you’re there?”

“Live a life, I suppose,” he replied with a shrug. “Never anything…improper if that’s what you’re asking.”

Suddenly Macavity’s leer came back. “What would you do if you ever dreamed about something improper? And more importantly… what would you be doing improperly?”

Munkustrap dropped his gaze, trying to avoid blushing, “I don’t see that any of that is your business.”

Rising, Macavity slinked over, bracing one arm against the railing and leaning forward slightly, using his slight height advantage. “Any of my business? Perhaps not but I sure am curious anyway.”

“You know what they say about curiosity,” Munkustrap murmured, leaning back fractionally.

Macavity followed his motion. “Lots of other things have tried to kill me. Curiosity will just have to get in line.”

“What were you to be hanged for?” the Englishman attempted to move away again, but found his escape blocked by a barrel.

“I asked first,” Macavity chided.

“I don’t know what I would do.  And I hardly know what I would dream of as I have never done so.”

Stepping forward again, Macavity hovered over him, neck craned slightly so they were almost face to face. “Use your imagination.”

“Answer my question first,” he returned, hoping his voice didn’t waver.

Macavity grinned when Munkustrap’s voice did. “Well, I don’t rightly remember. It could have been any one thing out of many. Could have been punching a politician in the face, could have been cheating at cards and starting a whole host of bar fights. Or maybe the public sodomy, I’d hardly know.”

The black-haired man’s eyes widened at that, “Public…God in Heaven.”

“So it wasn’t rape or murder or whatever your brother invented,” he said, smirking slightly. “We didn’t quite make it back to the hotel either. Alley ways hardly provide sufficient privacy, which I will remember in the future.”

“And your friend got pulled along with you?”

“He was doing his own host of things, including not only punching the politician, but attempting to beat him with his own cane. He was angrier about it then I was.”

Munkustrap’s brow arched at that, “You two really don’t have any inclination to stay out of trouble do you?”

“Impossible to stay out of it,” Macavity agreed. “Since I was a child, you could even ask Cor about that. So there, I answered your question,” he said, inching forward again. “You only ever answered half of mine.”

“Well, I-I’m not entirely certain how to answer you.  I don’t spend much time thinking on such things after all,” his bright blue eyes rested on Macavity’s expression.

A slight frown appeared between Macavity’s brows. “Oh good god. Was that your first kiss?”

“No, it wasn’t.  I just, I hardly think it proper to discuss something like this with someone I only met yesterday.  I know hardly anything about you.”

“You know plenty about it,” Macavity said, stepping forward again. “I’ve had one friend since childhood who’s still around. You know I can’t stay out of trouble and I like being prepared, and I believe more in guns than whatever you seem to think they can’t stop. And you know I kissed you. Anything else?”

“Why?”  He shook his head slightly to clear it, “I mean, why did you kiss me?”

“Seemed like a good idea at the time, don’t you think?” Macavity asked. “Do I really need a reason to lay out in front of you?”

Munkustrap sighed, finally placing his hands on the other’s chest to push him away, “No.  Of course you don’t, I beg your pardon.”

Macavity’s hand darted out to stop him, pushing him back against the railing. “To be callous, because I was about to be hanged and it seemed like a last chance. To be romantic, you had pretty eyes. But why would it matter?”

“It doesn’t.  As you say, why would it.  If you’ll please excuse me?  I think I’ll retire early.”

Growling Macavity shoved him back again, one hand resting on his shirt collar and he didn’t even bother to glance around before leaning down and kissing Munkustrap again, just as hard as the first time.

Startling at that, the other leaned back further against the railing, but didn’t remove his hands from the other’s chest.  His fingers coiling in Macavity’s shirt, the Englishman parted his lips very slightly and after the briefest of moments pressed into the kiss. Macavity hummed into the kiss, wrapped his other arm around Munkustrap’s waist and pulling him closer, away from the railing.

One of Munkustrap’s hands slipped from Macavity’s shirtfront to slide up and tangle in his hair before he came to himself and pulled his head back, “Wh-what are we doing?”

“Please tell me you know what kissin’ is,” Macavity muttered, leaning down to nuzzle the side of his neck, leaving a trail of kisses there.

His breath catching at that, Munkustrap tilted his head back, his hands both moving to Macavity’s chest again, “O-of course I know what kissing is.  I still don’t understand _why_.”

“Why why why,” Macavity almost whined. “Does there always have to be such _reasons_ with you. There isn’t a why to every action you know. Just enjoy the things you’re given an stop _asking questions_.”

Eyes narrowing dangerously at that, Munkustrap shoved hard against Macavity’s chest and twisted away from his embrace in the same move.  Taking several solid steps back along the deck, he offered the American a cold look, “Good night, sir.  I hope you sleep well.”

Macavity scowled after him. "Try to have improper dreams then!"

Munkustrap's upper lip curled into a grimace, but he turned on his heel and left quickly. Macavity swore, kicking the edge of the table where all his guns were before pausing when he heard a faint yelp, reaching under the table and dragging a protesting Plato out by his shirt front.

"My very good friend! What a surprise!"

"Well if it ain't my little buddy Plato," Macavity growled. "I outta kill you. Or go find Coricopat and kill you together." He fumbled for a moment before grabbing one of the knives, sticking it under Plato's throat.

"You always were bad with the ladies, or the men at this case," Plato said, grinning as widely as he could.

"How do you think this is going to keep you alive?" Macavity said, narrowing his eyes. "Though I suddenly understand why the Americans think they're getting to the city with no problem you little snitch. So what's your scam this time? Take them out and leave them in the desert?"

Plato shook his head. "Sadly no. They only paid me half, the other half when I get them safely home."

"Ha," Macavity laughed. "Someone's finally caught onto you huh?"

"Though I thought you would never go back," Plato added as Macavity finally stepped back. "What's the story? The man who rejected you?"

"Saved my life, didn't he?" Macavity said, narrowing his eyes again.

"You always did have more balls then brains," Plato scoffed and Macavity considered another moment before grabbing his shirt front again.

"Let's make us even then," he said and Plato's eyes widened in alarm as Macavity picked him up and pitched him over the side of the boat. Sputtering, he came up, shaking water out of his eyes.

"Hollister! I'm going to kill you for this!"

"That I'm sure I've heard before," Macavity muttered, turning away.

Coricopat was leaning against the railing of the stairs up to the top deck, his brow arched, "You know a swim in the Nile's far less than what he deserves, right?"

"Oh, I'm sure we'll run into him again," Macavity replied and frowned, looking down at three sets of wet footprints. "Oh, this cannot be of the good."

His gaze darting toward the footprints, Coricopat checked that his gun was in its holster at his hip and picked up one of the knives Mac had laid out, "Check the passenger cabins, I'll take a circuit around the deck."

Nodding, Macavity took off after Munkustrap.

Munkustrap, meanwhile, had entered his cabin, slamming the door shut behind him and was in process on shedding his suit.  The jacket, vest, tie and over shirt were all tossed carelessly on the bed as he moved sharply through the small room. Muttering under his breath about the American the whole time, he splashed water from the basin by the mirror over his face.  He lowered the towel from his face to glance in the mirror again and froze before whirling around to face the cloaked man behind him.  He let out a yelp and dove to the side as his attacker brought a double-hooked claw toward his throat.

The Englishman scrambled back, reaching for the gun Macavity had shoved into his hands earlier.  He'd almost gotten his hand on it when the assassin pinned him to the wall, bladed hook at his throat, "Where is the map?"

"The-the map?"  His blue eyes were wide, but they darted toward the table where the burned map was spread out.

"And the key."

"Key?  What key?  What the hell are you--" Munkustrap cut himself off as the hook pressed closer against his throat.

The door suddenly slammed off its hinges as Macavity burst in, taking a second to see what was happening before firing off at the hooked warrior who spun to try and use Munkustrap as a shield, meaning Macavity missed even using a gun in both hands.

The window suddenly caved in as another nomad crashed through, upending a candle on the desk, setting the table on fire. This one was quickly dispatched by Macavity.

Munkustrap slammed his elbow back into the gut of the man holding him and, catching the warrior's wrist to avoid slicing his own throat, threw himself forward with enough force to break away from him.  He ducked under another swipe at him and caught up the revolver he'd been given, ducking under Macavity's arm toward the door.

"Well, for once you have the right idea," Macavity said, ducking down and following on his heels, leaving the map to burn.

Munkustrap pulled up short at the end of the corridor, "The map!"

"That's what I'm here for!" Macavity replied, pulling him further down the hall. "All in my head, remember? Come on."

"Right, yes, right. Where's Tugger?" He moved quickly, reaching the main deck and looking around frantically.

"Not sure," Macavity replied and turned just as the hooked man came swarming out of the cabin, robes set on fire. "I'll find him," he said quickly and upended Munkustrap over the railing into the river.

Munkustrap came up, sputtering and swearing, but quickly turned and made for the nearest shore.  Coricopat appeared at Macavity's side moments later, "The Americans are pinned down, but they seem to have it in hand.  We've got to get off of here, the fire's spreading quickly."

"Find Tugger first--" Macavity started to say, only to stop when Tugger scampered by, having picked the key from the flaming robes and diving overboard after his brother.

Macavity looked at Coricopat before grabbing the sack with the remainder of his weapons. "Never mind, let's go."

His friend shook his head once before whirling and diving over the rail, coming up already a good distance toward shore.  He hauled himself out of the river, wringing out his shirttails, "Well, that was exciting.  We're rather without transportation now..."

Macavity joined him on the river banks, watching as the ship started to sink below the water, the horses, Americans, and Plato swimming to the other side of the shore. "Well," he paused and shrugged. "We have some advantages."

Munkustrap arched an eyebrow, "And those would be?"

Coricopat glanced around and smirked, "We're on the right shore."

"Hey, Hollister!" Plato called across the river. "Guess who's got all the horses!"

"Hey, Plato!" Macavity yelled back, Tugger trying to shake the water out of his mane of hair. "Guess who's on the wrong side of the river!" Plato's face fell as Macavity smirked, gathering his small band back up. "Come along now, we should get moving."

Munkustrap reached up to tug on his brother's hair, "Let it drip dry, Tugger it'll be easier on your neck."

Coricopat rolled his eyes, but fell into step with Macavity, "And just what are we bargaining for horses or camels with?"

"I'll figure that out when we get there," Macavity shrugged. "Hey, Tugger, you have money right?"

Tugger glowered at him, having decided to try and wring out his hair. " No. Maybe. Some."

"Good enough for me," Macavity grinned.

o-o-o-o

Just as the sun was rising they reached a small outpost.  Coricopat scanned the area and glanced at Macavity, "Munkustrap and I can see to the supplies, if you two will look into our transportation?"

"Transportation," Macavity nodded, Tugger eying him warily. "Come along," he said, dragging Tugger with him to where a merchant sat with several camels.

Tugger wouldn't admit it, but watching him barter was fascinating and soon enough they had four camels, which made Tugger wince in distaste. "Why camels?" he asked, shaking his head.

"Because they're desert creatures," Macavity said, patting one's nose before leading the group over to where Munkustrap and Coricopat were. "Besides, they remind me of someone."

"Who? That little git you were yelling across at the river?" Tugger asked.

"Nah," Macavity shook his head. "More like your hair."

Tugger sputtered, aiming a kick at Macavity's back side and missing, nearly overbalancing as Macavity laughed.

Munkustrap and Coricopat had managed to barter for adequate supplies for the journey to Hamunaptra and back.  Coricopat had also taken the liberty of seeing that the younger man had a linen shirt rather than just the undershirt he'd been stuck with since the boat had gone down.  Glancing over the camels, Cori nodded, "Good choices.  We're set here as well, so as soon as we can get the supplies on them we'll be off then."

"Great," Macavity said, eying Munkustrap and ignoring Tugger's continued glare.

Munkustrap offered a faint smile at that, running a hand over the back of his neck, "How long a journey is it out to the city?"

"If we ride through today and the night, should be there by tomorrow," he replied.

"But that's if we get started now," Coricopat cut in.  "So let's get this done.  The sooner we get out there the sooner we might get back."

Tugger nodded, though he eyed the camel unhappily as Macavity vaulted up onto his chosen mount. "I assume everyone knows how to ride a camel? Good."

Coricopat finished tying the last pack of supplies onto his camel before swinging up onto the animals back.  Once the brothers were situated as well, they turned the camels toward the desert and away from the Nile.

As they rode away, Tugger brought his camel up along Coricopat's. "So... is he always like this?"

The angular brunet arched an eyebrow, "How do you mean?"

"With the taunting and the danger and the hanging and good god the kissing. Can you get him to stop it?" Tugger asked, a hand trying to smooth his hair down from where it had dried poofy.

"No. No one can," Coricopat answered with a laugh.  "I can however, assure you that he'll see to it that we come out of this as safely as he is able to manage."

"Right, safely," Tugger huffed. "Which is why he carries around twenty odd guns and nearly gets himself hanged?"

"The hanging was an accident.  He wasn't paying as much attention to his surroundings as usual and I wasn't there to impart the necessary 'now is not the right place wait another ten goddamned minutes'.  As to the guns, would you prefer he defended you with peacock feathers?"

Tugger blinked. "Do you think peacock feathers would work?"

"Did you honestly just ask that question?"  Coricopat gave him a singularly unimpressed look.

"Well, according to both of you we're dealing with something beyond the physical and the human and the normal so hey, why not?"

"No.  Peacock feathers likely won't work.  I highly doubt much of anything will.  Unfortunately you and your brother have decided that it is a good idea to go tramping out into the desert to a city where lurks Lord only knows what in search of treasure, or knowledge, or whatever else you think you're looking for."

"Oh, treasure," Tugger nodded. "Definitively treasure."

"Right, of course.  And you consider that worth the possibility of losing your life, and quite possibly your brother's as well?"

Tugger shrugged. "He's after something else but sure, yeah."

Coricopat gaped at him for a moment before shaking his head and speeding his camel up to catch up with Macavity.

"What'd I say?" Tugger protested, shaking his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> http://magical-notes.livejournal.com/13434.html In Which VS talks some about Middle East history and characters.


	3. I'm Reading a Book

The next morning Mistoffelees rode out on patrol around the city, much as he always had, stopping short as the predawn light revealed a large group of figures down by the city, a smaller group approaching from another direction.

Jemima had to steer her horse around him. "What is it?"

Mistoffelees just blinked, recognizing two of the men in the smaller group. "Oh no..."

Pouncival reined his horse in next to Mistoffelees, "Is that...?"

"It's been three years," he replied. "What are they doing back?"

"More to the point, why aren't they dead?" Tumble asked from next to Jemima.

Mistoffelees scowled, looking over at the second group. "They at least I do not recongize."

"Perhaps they will kill each other off before they can rouse the creature," Pouncival offered hopefully.

Mistoffelees shot him a look to show what he thought of that as Jemi stared down. "No," she said, voice hollowing out. "I don't think that's what will happen at all."

Tumble offered her a wary look, "They...they won't wake it will they?"

She blinked over at him as Mistoffelees took off back toward where the others of their tribe were resting to gather them.

"I don't know," she said faintly. "But it is... likely."

His eyes widened and he looked toward Pounce, who shook his head and kept his gaze focused on the two groups below them.

Macavity glanced over at Plato. "I hope no one's forgot out bet," he called, looking up at the riders on the ridge above them, which Plato did not notice.

The black-haired American, Genghis, who'd been seated across from Tugger at the card game leaned against the pommel of his saddle, the corner of his lips curling upward, "Five hundred, I think we said?"

Munkustrap glanced toward the Americans and then back at Macavity, "Is there a reason we're stopped here?"

"Wait for it," Macavity replied, glancing over and smirking.

"That's what I was going to ask you," Demeter said, glancing over at Plato who shrugged.

Coricopat leaned down just enough to rub a hand over his camel's flanks, keeping his gaze focused on the horizon as the first rays of the morning sun appeared.  Across the expanse in front of them the shapes of the city waved into view, the heat waves giving it an unnatural appearance.

The Americans stared in shock at the same moment that Macavity and Plato urged their horses into motion.

The last leg of the journey to Hamunaptra became a race across the desert to be the first into the city.  Munkustrap offered Macavity a hint of a smile as he urged his camel faster past the red-haired man.

Macavity blinked in surprise as he left Plato behind but could not catch up the other man, urging his own camel on faster and entering the city only a few paces behind Munkustrap. "I thought you didn't know how to ride a camel!"

"I never said that," Munkustrap replied with a grin as he pulled the camel to a stop and slipped from its back.

Macavity just laughed, glancing back at the Americans. "Oh now you owe me," he grinned.

Up on the ridge, Jemima frowned. "Do many explorers behave in such a manner?"

"I'm not sure most explorers are as anxious to come back to a place where the world almost swallowed them whole," Pounce replied, watching as the last of the men entered the city.

"The other one did not look anxious," Mistoffelees replied, approaching the ridge again, having gathered some of the elders of their tribe to view the strangers. "Even now he approaches more slowly."

Mistoffelees was certainly right about that as Coricopat dismounted just inside the city and led the beast inside, taking his time to consider the routes into and away from where Macavity and the two brothers were setting up.  Tumble glanced at his leader and shook his head, "Slowly or not, they're back and the creature nearly awoke the last time they were here."

"Then we will be careful to make sure it doesn't happen," he said, eyes narrowed at the scene of the two camps setting up in the ruins.

Coricopat staked the camels a little ways away and then moved over to Macavity's side, murmuring, "Did you see them on the ridge again?"

"Yeah, right where we left them too," Macavity said, looking at the ridge.

"I'm standing behind my assertion that we shouldn't have come back," his friend said, grey eyes scanning the ridge.

"Yeah, I know," Macavity said, making sure his weapons were in easy reach. "But hey, it might work out this time. They didn't do anything last time after all."

"We also ran into the desert with no supplies or horses.  Anyone with any sense and a whole lot less tenacity would have died."

"But we didn't," Macavity pointed out, frowning as the riders disappeared over the ridge.

"No, we didn't," Coricopat shook his head, turning his attention to where Munkustrap was polishing up a large, concave, reflective mirror.  "What is he doing now?"

"I have no idea," Macavity remarked. "But we should probably go figure it out."

Tugger was already sitting on the ground next to his brother, eying the statue of Anubis warily, which Macavity hadn't noticed until he was standing below it, looking up. "Sure you want to be poking around in this area?"

Munkustrap glanced up from where he was working, "The book, according to what has been found about Hamunaptra, should rest beneath the base of this statue.  So, frankly?  Yes."

"Right," Macavity said, frowning at the statue and then the ground where the face had appeared.

"Tugger, would you go adjust the angle on that mirror over there for me?"  Munkustrap instructed, pointing to another mirror about ten feet away up a set of stone steps.  He looked toward Macavity, "Something wrong, Mr. Hollister?"

"Nothin'," he muttered, shaking his head slightly, "Carry on." Tugger had moved over to the mirror and adjusting it, which he knew how to do from past digs.

Once the mirror was in place, Munkustrap stepped back, considering the angle that his own mirror was at and where that would mean they would likely find the entrance, "This way, gentlemen."

Macavity looked at Coricopat before following. The last time they had been there fighting, and hadn't much explored.

Coricopat instinctively checked the gun at his side before following.  Munkustrap adjusted one final mirror before reading over the hieroglyphs outside what looked like a door.  Considering the aperture for a moment he pressed on a couple of specified points and leaned against the stone.  The door opened slowly, and the mirror's reflected light shone inside.  The Englishman lit a torch and stepped through, "Come along then."

"Where are we coming to?" Macavity asked. "And how do you know where you're going?"

"Into the city," Munkustrap answered.  He paused on the top step of a downward sloping staircase as he considered the second question, "I...I'm not certain, really.  I just, I just know."  His blue eyes darted to Tugger, asking for trust there at least.

Tugger shrugged, glad to follow his brother anywhere. He moved to position the mirror inside the room.

"Right," Macavity said, and blinked around the room as the light caught on the mirrors and lit the entire place up, almost as bright as day. "That's a neat trick."

Munkustrap smiled faintly at that, "Certainly saves the trouble of having to use torches everywhere down here."

Coricopat looked around, "Where, exactly, are we heading?"

"The base of the statue of Anubis," came the quick response as Munkustrap descended the stairs and started to cross the chamber.

"Oh now that I am not liking the sound of," Macavity muttered but followed.

Coricopat hesitated, glancing back to where the sunlight was filtering in through the doorway, but sighed and trailed after the others.  Munkustrap considered the passageways leading off of the entrance and turned left, lighting a second torch from the one he held and offering it to Macavity.

Macavity considered the other as he took it. "Thanks," he said, a shade gruffly.

Lips quirking upward slightly, Munkustrap nodded and turned down the corridor, taking a right at the next fork and finally stopping in a high-ceilinged chamber.  In front of them was a large block, approximately six feet in height, and the feet of the statue of Anubis could be seen to be resting upon it.  Munkustrap crossed the chamber carefully, tracing a hand gently over the writing carved into the stone.

Macavity paused as he heard a sound, inching around the corner with his gun drawn as Tugger tried to translate a few of the lines on the wall himself. Gun drawn, Macavity leapt around the corner to find the Americans holding their guns to his head as well.

Coricopat had followed Macavity, his gun at the ready and he pulled back the hammer as he found himself staring down the barrel of Carbucketty's gun.  Munkustrap startled at the sound and moved carefully around the statue's base, "Good Lord, Gentlemen, there's no need for this."

"This is our dig," Demeter replied, the tall Egyptologist they had hired standing behind them with a thin smile, glasses perched on his nose.

Munkustrap’s eyes narrowed at that, "I think you’ll find we got here first, which makes it ours."

"Yes," Plato agreed. "But your odds are not so good."

"I like them better than yours," Coricopat grit out, shifting his aim slightly to Plato's shoulder.

Plato scowled. "Don't you remember, we used to be friends?"

"I remember a door slamming on that relationship, plus you've always been a sneaky little thieving bastard," Macavity snarled in reply, and the Egyptologist just smiled coldly at the proceedings.

Munkustrap glanced at them, but had dropped his gaze to the floor, sliding a couple of small pebbles into a crack with the toe of his shoe. Slipping a couple more in, he finally heard the faintest sound of them hitting the floor and he looked up again.  He reached out and placed a hand on Macavity's forearm, pressing down slightly to silently instruct him to lower the gun, "Let's play nice now.  There are other places to dig."

Macavity and Tugger both looked at him in surprise. "You sure?" Macavity asked. "You seemed pretty set on this spot."

He shrugged slightly, "I didn't say there were better once, just that there were others.  Besides, I'd rather dig somewhere else without you three riddled with bullet holes than here with you in such a state."

"Well, when you put it that way," Macavity said, slowly holstering his weapon and stepping back.

"Yeah, run along somewhere else," Plato taunted and Macavity had to take a deep breath not to leap for his throat.

Coricopat hesitated a moment longer, but holstered his gun as well.  He eyed Plato, sneering at him as they passed.  Munkustrap inclined his head to the Americans' party and started toward the passage they had taken originally, leading them through a warren of tunnels until they came to another chamber and he looked up with a grin, "Here we are, gentlemen."

"And where is here we are?" Macavity asked.

"Under the statue if I'm not mistaken," Tugger said, looking up, and Macavity looked shocked that he answered the question.

Munkustrap nodded, "Exactly right."  He crossed the chamber to where the pebbles had fallen, "If we start here and work up we should come up right beneath them and directly between the legs of the statue, unless my calculations are off."

Coricopat arched an eyebrow, "So in other words, you're going to have the dig site regardless of the bullet holes?"

Macavity grinned. "Sneaky thinking. I like sneaky thinking."

Offering Macavity another smile, Munkustrap considered the ceiling of the chamber, "Well, shall we begin?"

"Sure," Macavity said, stepping up with a pry bar to work at the ceiling.

"Do we have any idea what we're going to find here?"  Coricopat asked warily, even as he stepped forward to help Macavity.

Macavity glanced at Tugger and then Munkustrap. "Hopefully treasure," Tugger replied brightly.

"The Book of Amun-Ra," Munkustrap answered at the same time.

"So, basically a gold book."  Coricopat rolled his eyes, "It's probably cursed, you realize that of course?"

Tugger shrugged, clearly not caring if it was solid gold.  "Everything here is cursed," Macavity muttered.

"You're both being ridiculously superstitious if you ask me," Munkustrap replied.  "Most, if not all, legends of curses are created in order to ward off treasure hunters from attempting to seek the wealth.  As it stands, Hamunaptra is hard enough to find even without the legends."

"Which means their wards are probably going to be even more powerful. People don't go through so much bother to hide things that aren't worth something," Macavity said. "And they tend to be mighty protective of those things, even after death."

"So you watch out for booby traps, those are far more likely than a legitimate curse," Munkustrap answered with a shrug.

Macavity sighed and muttered something, hacking at the earth.

Coricopat rolled his eyes, jamming the crowbar he was using in deep and wrenching downward.  He leapt back with a yell as a massive sarcophagus dropped from the ceiling, "What in the hell?"

Macavity had leapt back, Tugger diving around the corner as soon as something stirred. "Okay, not cursed, right?" Tugger asked, peeking around the corner as Macavity glared at the offending object.

Munkustrap moved over to the sarcophagus, running his hand over the stone, his eyes widening slightly, "Well....that depends on what you mean by cursed I suppose..."

"And what do _you_ mean by cursed?" Macavity asked, inching closer.

"Well, whoever is in this casket was buried at the feet of Anubis, and the cartouche has been chiseled off of the casket itself," Munkustrap replied, still considering the lid of the casket.

"That... that is not good," Macavity said, limited knowledge of Egyptian practices telling him enough to know that.

"Those with no name... were usually not good people," Tugger added helpfully, still hiding behind the wall.

"Buried at the foot of Anubis would make him someone of great importance or someone they really didn't like," Munkustrap supplied.  "To take his name, though..."  His hand brushed over the top of the casket, stopping at a star-shaped impression, "Oh, here's a lock.  Good heavens."

"It's locked too?" Macavity demanded and reached forward to grab Munkustrap's wrist back, thinking that this was where he would have seen the face rise from. "No, no, bad plan. No. Back away."

Munkustrap wrenched his wrist away, "I have hardly come this far to turn back now, Mr. Hollister."

Coricopat stepped forward, "I agree with Mac.  It doesn't matter, though, with the way these things are made?  The lock clinches it, there's no access without a key."

Macavity looked a little queasy as he considered the lock. "Well, we have the key don't we?" he said, glancing at Tugger who shrank back again before nodding.

"Yeah, I got it back from that flaming chap, I mean if you think--"

"It's the right pattern," Macavity shrugged.

Munkustrap turned to his brother, holding out his hand, "I know you, you've still got it on you haven't you?"

"This is the worst idea I've heard thus far," Coricopat protested.

Tugger blinked. "You know, as the older here, I'm agreeing with them."

"You're the older brother?" Macavity asked in complete surprise.

"Three years," Munkustrap responded.  "Tugger, please.  You said you have it.  Do you have it on you?"

There's not a lot of other places it could be," Tugger said after a moment. "I mean--"

His brother's eyes lit at that and he started toward him, but stopped at a scream echoing through the corridors.

Tugger's eyes widened further and he really looked ready to bolt, even Macavity suddenly more on edge. "Do you think they found something up there?"

"I suppose that depends on how they tried to open what they may have thought they found," Munkustrap answered, eying the ceiling warily.  "Alright, perhaps it's best if we leave for today.  Settle in to the camp and see what we can find out tomorrow..."

"Can we leave it forever?" Tugger asked as they trudged back to the surface.

Munkustrap shook his head, "No.  I'm not inclined to do that, Tugger.  This is an amazing discovery, even if the bloody Americans did happen to damage themselves on the other side of it."

Coricopat kept pace with Macavity, "I think I'm leaving.  I'm going back and asking them to hang me.  It will be quick, it will be easy, and I won't have to deal with ancient curses brought about by opening locked sarcophagi."

Macavity considered. "Well, maybe instead of hanging we could catch the nearest boat back to England, or the states even."

“That's always an option as well.  Perhaps the States...though, no, the States are still on that whole 'no alcohol' thing.  England it is then."

"You and your drinks," Macavity scoffed.

"You don't drink?" Tugger asked, looking horrified.

"I avoid it," Macavity snapped in reply.

"Drinks are a time-honored method of socializing," Coricopat remarked, but left it there.

Macavity rolled his eyes and Tugger was freaked out enough not to press it. "Maybe Brazil," Macavity remarked after a moment. "Never been there before. Or, I don't know, an island somewhere."

"As long as it's not anywhere near the Mediterranean.  I am done with this portion of the world for a good long time.  I'd like several nations and perhaps a body of water or two between me and the cursed sarcophagus, thank you," Coricopat replied.

"It's not explicitly cursed," Munkustrap protested.

"Yes, because implicit curses are ever so much better," came the response from the brunet.

"Or we just haven't found the curse yet," Macavity pointed out. "Really? But I always wanted to visit Greece... maybe next time around."

"Greece...might be viable.  If the sarcophagus stays closed.  Otherwise, there is no chance of that being far enough," Coricopat shook his head as they emerged from the entrance chamber into the sunlight.

Macavity shaded his eyes, glancing over at the American's camp. "Let's find out what's going on then."

"I think it best if I not go anywhere near Plato right now," Coricopat admitted.

Munkustrap arched an eyebrow at him, but turned his attention to Macavity, "Well, I'm curious enough to join you."

Macavity shook his head at Coricopat before heading over, spotting Demeter who was looking a bit shaken. "What happened?" he asked.

She shoved her bobbed blonde hair back, before shaking her head. "Nothing. I mean... We were trying to get into a compartment under the statue and... acid or something was in there. Took out three workers."

"Took out--" Macavity gaped, glancing at the Egyptologist who didn't look concerned in the least. "Where the hell did you pick him up anyway?"

"Martin Smith?" she asked and shrugged. "I don't know, that was Carbucketty's thing."

Munkustrap's brows rose sharply at that, "Smith?  You lot chose /Smith/?  How much is he charging you?"

Approaching from the direction of his shelter, Genghis frowned, "I don't see that it's any of your business actually."

"I'm taking Smith is a bad choice?" Macavity asked, glancing over, Demeter frowning. The callousness the man had displayed to the workers bothered her.

"Smith is...he's good at what he does," Munkustrap responded tactfully.  "What he does, however, is typically frowned upon by most of the people in our field.  And his methods are... cruel when they needn't be."

Demeter nodded, frowning again. "But... he is good at what he does?"

Munkustrap pursed his lips and nodded.  Genghis spoke, placing a hand on Demeter's shoulder, "Since that's what we've got him along for, that's good to know."

She smiled up at him and Macavity scowled as Martin smirked over at him. "Well then," he said. "We'll just retreat back...over this way then," he said, and dragged Munkustrap away from that grey eyed gaze, not liking it in the least.

The Englishman shrugged his hand off once they were back at their own campsite, "I cannot believe they hired _Smith_.  I hadn't realized.  I know him by reputation, though I think I may have met him...once?"

Tugger looked up. "Smith? Is that who that bastard with the glasses was?"

Munkustrap nodded, moving over and sitting down next to his brother, "Apparently.  They lost three workers today to a booby trap.  Salt acid from the sounds of it." Tugger swore something and shook his head, Macavity sitting down.

Coricopat joined them a moment later, "So I take this to mean that it's probably best we weren't at the original dig site?"

"Yes," Macavity agreed, nodding. "Because I don't know about you but I am not up to fucking salt acid."

His friend offered him a long look at that, "No, instead of deadly burns we've got a very real chance of an ancient curse."

Macavity shrugged as Tugger looked around his bags for a moment before pulling out a bottle in triumph. "Aha!" Macavity eyed the bottle with obvious distaste.

"You want to get drunk in the desert? Really?"

"The situation seems to call for it," Tugger returned.

Munkustrap rolled his eyes, "Really, Tugger?  Now?"

"I really think the situation calls for it," Tugger repeated with more emphasis, offering the bottle to Coricopat.

Coricopat considered the bottle and took a drink from it, before passing it back with a grimace, "Keep it."

 Tugger laughed. "Ah, you just have no taste. Or perhaps too much taste. Oh well, more for me."

"I still say you three are over-reacting," Munkustrap said, eying the bottle in his brother's hand.

"And you'll continue to say that until we actually set off the unbreakable curse, I'm sure," Coricopat returned, testily.

"Cor--" Macavity started as more screams went up from the American camp, their workers scattering as horses suddenly bore down on the ruins.

Looking up in alarm, Coricopat was on his feet, gun out before the riders got further than the edge of the American camp, "No, my mistake.  We're going to be killed for crossing a boundary first."

Macavity's eyes hardened and he glanced at Munkustrap. "Still have that gun?"

The librarian nodded, drawing it, "Yes, I did manage to keep that much."

"Good," Macavity nodded, picking up a rifle and taking aim as the black robbed riders from earlier swarmed into the camp.

Coricopat considered where the riders were coming from and the position the four of them were currently in, "Mac, I'm headed left, see if I can get around their flank and pick them off from there.  Try not to shoot me."

"I'll do my damnest," Macavity said, setting the riffle up and picking off several of the nomads. The Americans, having been taken by surprise, now had their guns out, defending their tents as Martin Smith leaned back, protected but not participating. The diggers however, ran amuck in the camp, several of them being chased down though the nomads appeared to want to scare the adventurers off, rather than slay them all. Though killing was certainly still an option on the table and that was clear.

Having hit one of the nomads in the shoulder--and they gave a rather feminine sounding yell--Macavity took stock of them, noticing a shorter figure on a horse that the others seemed to be deferring too as he motioned them around the ruins. Taking a running leap, he knocked the figure off his horse, rolling for a moment on the ground before the nomad leapt up, twin swords in hand.

Munkustrap took aim and fired, the shot went wide, but it caused the rider he'd been aiming for to wheel away from his intended path, his horse rearing.  Coricopat slipped from pillar to pillar, taking shots when he had clear ones.  He paused in the shadow of a stone archway to reload quickly before whirling out again, and spotting Macavity facing a man with two swords.  He leveled his gun and fired, the bullet pinging off the blade of the left-hand sword.

Hazel eyes snapped over to where the shot came from, widening even more as Macavity tackled him again, knocking the second blade away as well, though in return Mistoffelees yanked his gun away.

"Why do I feel like every time I come into this city, you're watching me?" Macavity demanded.

"Because we are," Mistoffelees replied, kneeing him hard in the gut and scrambling back for his swords, gathering them both by the time Macavity rose, still doubled over in pain.

"Son of a," he muttered, ducking quickly and rolling as one of the swords passed by his shoulder.

"You shouldn't have come back."

Coricopat crossed the camp swiftly, firing a shot in the direction of a rider who was bearing down on Tugger, to come within easier range of Macavity and the nomad.  He leveled his gun at the swordsman, "Shouldn’t we?"

Mistoffelees half turned to be able to face both of them more easily. "No," he said, glancing at the angular man and then trying to focus back on Macavity. "You came here once, you should have been smart enough to never come back. Now it probably will be your grave. You have no idea what you're dealing with here."

"And you do?" Macavity asked, still in a fighting stance as the battle lulled around them, frantic still by the American camp.

"A grave here, or a grave in Cairo.  Seems this country doesn't much like us," Coricopat rolled a shoulder as he glanced briefly at Macavity before focusing back on the third man.

"Really startin' to feel uninvited," Macavity agreed, Mistoffelees scowling at both of them.

"My people have guarded this land longer than any of our lives. We know what lies under the sand and it would behoove you to leave before you disturb it... again."

Coricopat shook his head, "I'm hearing a lot of that, but I've yet to hear a convincing _why_.  All I've seen so far is salt acid, and an attack after sundown.  Did no one ever think that reasoned discussion might be a good option?"

"How British," Mistoffelees drawled. "Would tea warn you off this land better? Would it get rid of them?" he asked, motioning with a sword point to the Americans.

"Nothing will get rid of them," Coricopat rejoined evenly, his gaze flickering to Macavity rather than the American treasure hunters.  "Believe me, I've tried."

Mistoffelees scoffed. "Then we will have to burn them out."

"You think we're likely to pack up and leave in the middle of the night?  Wandering the desert at this hour is a wonderful way to get us killed out there," he drew back the hammer on his gun.  "No, thank you."

"Then leave in the morning," Mistoffelees replied, lowing the swords slightly and taking a step back, trying to ignore Coricopat's eyes. "You do not belong here."

Coricopat nodded once, though to which part he was agreeing was unclear, "Of course.  Now, good night, sir."

Mistoffelees' eyes widened and Macavity turned his head to fully gape at Coricopat. "Please tell me you didn't say that," he hissed. "Now we're totally going to die and for once it's going to be _your_ fault."

Mistoffelees rolled his shoulders back, taking a breath and looking Coricopat over once more before bowing slightly at the waist. "And a good night to you. Do not be here in the morning," he added, before leaping aboard the horse that was moving behind him, not stopping it before mounting.

Coricopat's lips curled into a wry smile, "I figured death by sword was preferable to that by whatever he seemed to fear.  Beyond that, if we could put it off ‘til morning we now have the ability to possibly see them coming.  I'd say that gives us a bit of an advantage."

Macavity blinked at him. "You're out of your damned mind. I'm not the crazy one, you are. Everyone just _thinks_ it's me."

"That's because I function on a slightly more sane level in groups."

"And that just makes everything better," Macavity groused, before remembering Munkustrap with only a borrowed revolver, looking around for him frantically as the nomads trailed out of the city, following their leader.

"Well, it usually only risks getting me hung or shot, not cursed," Coricopat reminded, starting toward where he'd last seen either of their companions.

Macavity rolled his eyes, bouncing in front of Coricopat. "Straps! Hey, Straps! Where the hell?"

Munkustrap hauled himself to his feet, rubbing the back of his head and dusting himself off from where he'd fallen and knocked his head against one of the stone columns, "Over here."  His gaze darted around, "Tugger?"

Tugger appeared from where he'd been crouching behind a wall, drinking with a gun, which meant he hadn't actually hit anymore but was for the most part left alone. His brother breathed a quiet sigh of relief, "Oh thank God."

Coricopat reached Tugger, arching an eyebrow, "Find many heroic deeds in that bottle?"

"More than enough to suffice me," he replied, not bothered in the least as Macavity made his way over to Munkustrap, tugging his head back to look at his eyes, trying to find signs of a concussion, before poking around for bruises or other injuries on his scalp.

Coricopat arched an eyebrow but turned to watch as Munkustrap batted at the other man's hands in protest, "I'm fine.  Really, sir, I'm fine."

"Uh-huh," Macavity muttered, not stopping.

Munkustrap sighed and relented, "Are you alright?  Honestly."

"Me? I'm fine. That was a minor scrape, he wasn't actually trying to kill us, just scare us off, though I'd hate to see what tomorrow morning brings."

"Tomorrow morning?" Munkustrap asked, arching a brow and then deciding that was a mistake.

Coricopat answered, "He's given us until then to leave, they seem to believe there's something here that _shouldn't be awakened_.  My suggestion?  Sleep tonight and leave at dawn."

"With Cor on this one," Macavity said. "Seemed to make it sound like they were going to come after us with the intent to kill next time. Something about taking guarding this place pretty seriously."

Munkustrap frowned, but finally sighed and nodded, "Alright, fine."

"Alright fine?" Macavity asked, hands finally stopping their movement to cup the back of Munkustrap's head.

"Well, you two seem pretty set on it.  If our guides leave what are we to do but follow," he answered, eyes narrowed.  "I, for one, have no interest in joining any group containing Smith."

Macavity snorted. "I never knew the rivalries between academics," he laughed.

"He's not an academic," Munkustrap responded icily.  "He's inhuman."

Macavity barely managed not to laugh again, biting it back but not moving away. "Right, sure, 'Straps."

Munkustrap grimaced, but stepped away, "If we're getting an early start perhaps we should see about some sleep then?"

The edge of Macavity's mouth twisted but he nodded. "Alright, sure, sleep. Have any dreams since we last talked?"

That earned him a long look, "I haven't slept since then."

Macavity responded to the look with a charming grin. "Then I hope you have interesting ones tonight."

"Right, of course.  Sleep well, Mr. Hollister."

Macavity watched him leave with a scowl, Tugger trailing after his brother, still drinking, and swaying slightly. "That man could almost drive me to drink," Macavity drawled after them.

Coricopat offered his friend a wry smile, "Having problems wooing a certain Brit?"

"Apparently," Macavity replied, still scowling.

"Have you tried, well, not flirting?"

Macavity gave him a long look. "You say that like it's actually possible."

"Alright, point, but still.  Evidently flirting with him is getting you nowhere," Coricopat shrugged.  "When does he throw up walls the most?"

"When I say stupid things?" Macavity offered. "He asks why a lot."

His friend tried to hide a grin, "And dare I ask how you answered him?"

Macavity blinked. "I don't know, I sorta don't function on why questions, you know that. I told him he had nice eyes but do I really have carefully laid out reasons for this type of thing?"

"Apparently it might do you some good.  Try compliments before kissing perhaps next time?"

"Nice eyes isn't a compliment?" Macavity asked.

"It is, it's also not...well, not exactly saying much about him is it?"

Macavity considered. "Um, it isn't? Well how would you compliment someone you liked then?"

"Mac, you only tell someone they have nice eyes if you can't think of anything else to say," Coricopat replied.  "I mean, if you're going to use that as your first compliment, back it up with something about how they carry themselves, or the fact that they're actually handsome besides their eyes."

"But," Macavity protested. "He has _really_ nice eyes. They're quite arresting, I'm serious here."

"So explain that to him.  Since obviously you've been unable to convey it so far."

Muttering something under his breath, Macavity glanced around. "Wait, where did he go?" Moving toward where he'd seen the brother's disappear, he almost tripped over the snoring form of Tugger, still cuddling his bottle to his chest.

Coricopat's gaze swept the campsite, his eyes narrowing when he couldn't see Munkustrap anywhere, "I thought you were keeping an eye on him."

"No, I was too busy thinking about his eyes," Macavity replied, hoisting his gun back up. "He's probably down with that mummy again."

Munkustrap appeared at that moment, a large black book in his hands, "Oh, there you are gentlemen, I was beginning to wonder."

 "Where did you get that?" Macavity asked, eyes widening and he didn't put the gun down.

He looked at the other innocently, assuming the other thought he'd taken it from the tomb--he hadn't, though he had slipped down and opened the sarcophagus.  The mummy hadn't been, well, mummified--the person inside had been buried alive.  "This?  Apparently our American friends had better luck with their search than just a casket.  It's not the book of Amun-Ra, but it's of the same period I'm certain."

"You stole a book?" Macavity blinked. "I thought your brother was the pickpocket, and is it wise to take that from someone you consider to be a right old inhumane bastard?"

"I'll return it, I just want a look," Munkustrap answered, ignoring Coricopat's snort of derision as he sat down and pulled out the puzzle box from his pocket.

"Isn't that Tugger's?" Macavity asked with a suspicious frown.

"Actually, if you want to get technical, it's yours," he answered, opening it and placing it in the lock on the front of the book.

"Right, so give it back now," Macavity said, trying to snatch it back.

"Oh come off it," Munkustrap turned the key, causing the latch to spring open.  "It's a book.  No harm ever came from reading a book."  He handed the box back to Macavity now that the book was open and opened the cover.  The wind picked up and their fire flickered.

Coricopat's brows rose, "Let's not test that theory, hm?"

Macavity prompted hid the key in his vest. "And why did you have the key in the first place?"

"I'd seen the book earlier when we were in the camp and I knew it needed a key," he lied smoothly.

Macavity blinked. "Oh no. You have the same tells as your brother, what are you doing?"

"I'm reading a book," he turned his attention to said volume.

"No, absolutely not," Macavity said, trying to lunge forward to take it from him.

He sprang to his feet, backing away, even as his eyes scanned over the page and he began reading the Ancient Egyptian aloud.

"Hey, what are you doing?" Macavity remanded, his yelp waking up Tugger who sat up, blinking around the camp in confusion.

Munkustrap glanced toward Macavity and carefully sidestepped past his brother, putting Tugger between them as he continued.  Coricopat circled in the opposite direction from Macavity, "Do you even know what the hell you're reading?"

"That is a very good question," Macavity agreed, lunging for him again and tackling him to the ground, Tugger still looking around in confusion.

Munkustrap finished the last phrase and let the book fall, glancing up as a loud whine could be heard in the night air.

"What did you do?" Macavity asked from where he had Munkustrap pinned to the ground.

Up on the ridge again, Mistoffelees' head snapped up from where he'd been dozing, leaning against his horse but not wanting to let the ruins out of his sight. Scrambling to his horse he rode toward where the other's of his tribe slept that night.

Munkustrap's eyes widened slightly as he struggled against the other man, "We need to get inside."

"We do?" Macavity frowned down at him. "Why? _What did you do_?"

Coricopat looked in the direction of the noise, "Mac, interrogate him inside, there's something coming this way and I would rather not be in the open when it gets here."

Munkustrap struggled again, "It...it doesn't make any sense for this to have...look, if that's what I think it is we need to get inside."

"And what do you think it is?"  Cori asked, whirling on him.

"Locusts."

"I really hate bugs," Macavity deadpanned before scrambling back, dragging Munkustrap to his feet and running for the entrance they'd used earlier that day.


	4. Really Go All Out in the Curse Department

The four of them made it inside to find a torch lit and resting in a holder just down the stairs.  Coricopat eyes narrowed, "I would have sworn those were extinguished earlier..."

Macavity looked down and yelped. "How the hell did frogs get in here?" he demanded, trying to jump around and not land on any.

Tugger blinked at the entire thing. "I know I didn't drink that much," he muttered, nearly slurring.

Munkustrap pulled away from Macavity, taking the torch, "Well, you see, apparently not all curses are entirely...well, fictitious.  I've only ever encountered reference to this sort.  Never have I seen record of it being performed."

"Wait, you--" Macavity gaped at him. "No, repeat that? You read something to unleash the curse just to prove to yourself it didn't 'exist only to find out that's _not the case_?"

"That is not what I said,” Munkustrap protested.

Macavity narrowed his eyes as Tugger poked one of the frogs hoping around the area. "It's not?" he snarled.

"Are these real?" Tugger asked, tilting his head. "I didn't think I'd drunken that much..."

"Don't touch those," Macavity snapped automatically, his opinion of frogs about as good as his opinion of insects.

"No. I said the thing that would bring this sort of curse about has never been recorded, not that what I read brought about the curse," Munkustrap protested.

"You know what I think?"  Coricopat asked after a moment, gaze focused on Munkustrap, "I think we ought to go check on that other thing that the key opened."

Macavity blinked, considering how long Munkustrap had been out of his sight. "Oh for the love of--tell me you didn't."

"Didn't what?" he rejoined as Coricopat pushed past him and took the torch from his hand to lead the way into the passage to the lower chamber.

"Open the damn sarcophagus," Macavity said, picking Tugger up by the scruff of his shirt and dragging him away from the frogs and after Coricopat, the lanky blond stumbling along with him.

Munkustrap hesitated for the briefest of moments before following the other three.  Coricopat stopped at the entrance to the chamber, "It's worse than that I think."

"How is it worse?" Macavity asked, stepping into the room. "Shouldn't the open sarcophagus have... I don't know, a mummified corpse in it?"

"That's how it's worse," Coricopat moved across the room carefully, "There's nothing in here."  He turned to face Munkustrap, "Why is there nothing in here?"

"There was earlier," the other protested.

"So you did open the thing we expressly asked you not to?" Macavity glowered, dropping Tugger who curled up on the ground, starting to look more and more hung over the longer he was awake.

"This isn’t good," he mumbled, resting his head against the sarcophagus.

"No, it really ain't," Macavity crossed his arms over his chest, eyes narrowed. "So you opened the thing up. What curse were you talking about earlier that you didn't believe in?"

Coricopat cut in before Munkustrap could answer, "Mummies...the people who are mummified are dead before they're put in the casket, right?"

Munkustrap glanced in his direction, "That would be a requirement when your brains are wrenched out through your nose, yes."

"Then why is the entire lid here covered in fingernail scratches and dried blood?"

Macavity blinked and moved over quickly, looking at where Coricopat motioned. "There's something written in here too, in blood..."

Munkustrap hesitated for a long moment before moving over, leaning over to look at the marks, "It...it says 'death is only the beginning'."

"Okay, now, you are explaining exactly what is going on here," Macavity said, arms still crossed over his chest and glaring.

Munkustrap picked up a handful of scarab skeletons from inside the sarcophagus, "I came down here earlier, just to see if the key would actually work.  It did.  This opened and the mummy, well, he...it...it wasn't exactly a mummy.  It was _still_ decomposing.  From the looks of these here?  He was buried alive with flesh-eating scarabs."

"You mentioned something about a curse, having heard about it," Macavity pressed. "What the hell was it?"

"It's called the Hom-Dai.  It was the worst of all ancient Egyptian curses, reserved for only the most evil blasphemers," he hedged.

"And what exactly was supposed to happen?" Macavity demanded, stepping forward and dragging Munkustrap toward him by the shirt front, "Huh?"

The other man tried to pull away but found he couldn't, "W-well, It's written, that if a victim of the Hom-Dai ever arises, he'll bring with him the, well, the Mosaic plagues.  All ten of them."

Macavity blinked. "And you... you did what? You woke him up? Is that what that book was and is that why he isn't here? Are you that stupid?"

"I didn't expect _this_ to happen!"  Munkustrap yelped, yanking back as hard as he could.

"Well then you might want to not go around meddling in things you don't understand," Macavity said, letting him go as he yanked to watch him fall backwards, trying not to take any pleasure in that.

The librarian flinched as he carefully got back to his feet, "I'll try to avoid it.  There are ways to counter it, I'm sure.  There always are."

Coricopat frowned, "We wouldn't even have to counter it if you'd kept that book shut and that key in your brother's pocket."

"What have you done?" a new, higher pitched voice yelled, as Martin Smith stomped into the room, a torch held in front of him, the three Americans scrambling behind.

Munkustrap shrank back from the new arrivals, Coricopat turning to face them, "Come again?"

"What did he do?" Martin repeated, pointing to Munkustrap. "You stole my book you damned thief and now there's locusts and frogs and don't think I don't know what that means. So I repeat, for the last time, what did you do?"

"I read from it," he admitted.  "Though we might ask you what you've been digging up as well, since evidently you uncovered the book of the dead from somewhere."

"Yes, we uncovered it," Martin replied archly. "But I had no intention of reading from it aloud in this place, or ever."

Macavity considered the Americans, who were each holding golden conoptic jars. "Find those in the same place?" he asked.

"Yes," Martin said, just as coldly. "There were five jars, one of which was broken, and a great deal of mumbo jumbo about a cursed mummy that would take the essence of any who opened the box containing these to regenerate himself, though it appears you were the ones to find the mummy."

"Wait, what was that?" Demeter asked, stepping forward. "You never said anything about regeneration or... or essence taking!"

"Didn't I?" Martin drawled. "My mistake. I thought it meaningless."

"There’s been a lot of that going around," Coricopat murmured, eyeing Munkustrap.

Carbucketty frowned, "What did it actually say?"

"Well, if there is an undead being brought back to life, he would be bound by sacred law to consummate the curse... bringing death to those who opened it, by assimilating their organs and fluids, making himself whole at their expense."

Genghis' eyes widened, "And yet somehow you didn't think that bit was relevant?"

"I figured it would hardly matter to treasure hunters," Martin replied just as blandly. "Now however..." he walked forward, considering the sarcophagus. "He appears to have been a victim of Hom-Dai, hm? Which means with his rising, he will bring about the ten plagues, two of which we have seen here," he said, glancing over at Munkustrap. "Not terribly intelligent of you, was it?"

The librarian wouldn't meet his eyes, "Rhetorical questions aren't helping us in the least here, _sir_."

Suddenly there was another sound, and several black robbed figures burst into the room, the Americans and Macavity instantly drawing guns, though Tugger just waved from where he was still leaning against the sarcophagus. "What did you do?" Mistoffelees demanded, striding forward and pushing Genghis' gun to the side to stop in front of Macavity, furious.

Coricopat stepped between them, "It wasn't him, he tried to prevent it."

"Then who was it?" Mistoffelees demanded, looking around those gathered below, his accent while speaking English strained.

Munkustrap swallowed hard before taking a half step forward, "It, it was me."

The full weight of Mistoffelees' glare snapped over to him. "Why?"

"I-I didn't mean for this to happen.  I, didn't realize what it would cause."

"Intentions are meaningless," Mistoffelees snapped. "You've awakened the creature," he said, glancing warily at the sarcophagus before approaching it slowly.

Munkustrap flinched at that.  Coricopat stepped aside, "Is there no way to counter the creature then?"

Mistoffelees looked between the Americans and Coricopat. "Maybe, so long as they stay alive. Once they are dead he will be invincible, able to bring his lover back to live and bring the apocalypse."

"Who was he?" Coricopat asked, "And why was he cursed?"

"Growltiger, high Priest of Osiris," Mistoffelees replied. "He... was the lover of the mistress of Seti I. When she murdered the pharaoh he attempted the greatest blasphemy, to bring her back to life." He shook his head. "Now he will attempt to suck the life out of those who opened the box of Griddlebone's jars, and then raise her."

"So we have to keep him from getting those four then?"  Coricopat nodded toward the Americans and Martin.  "How can he be dealt with before he kills them?"

"The three of them," Martin replied as Demeter gave Mistoffelees a stricken look. "I was not stupid enough to remain there while they opened the chest. I was only after the book after all, not any jars."

Mistoffelees blinked at him before turning to Coricopat. "We must get them out of here and as far away as possible, while my people attempt to find a way to kill the creature. I must confer with one of our tribe that resides in Cairo, and I and some of mine will escort you there for protection."

Genghis and Carbucketty stared at Martin aghast, something akin to a growl settling in Genghis' throat.

Coricopat offered Martin a disgusted look before turning his attention back to Mistoffelees, "Alright, perhaps we could continue on our way out of this chamber and these catacombs now?"

Mistoffelees nodded, conferring quickly with some of the other's who had entered with him before nodding again, leading the way back topside where the swam of locusts had moved on.

Just as they reached the final chamber before the exit, though, there was a scurrying sound and thousands of blue scarab beetles came skittering over the floor from all directions.

"Scarabs!" Mistoffelees yelled, motioning for everyone to run, taking off deeper into the ruins himself, unable to figure out where else to go, Macavity hoisting the unsteady Tugger up and dragging him along. Several of the diggers were crouched by the door, having been avoiding the locusts, only to scream and bolt in different directions now, Martin pushing one over in an attempt to stall the scarabs.

Swearing, Macavity turned, trying to help the worker up only to see him covered in a swarm of scarabs. Stumbling back and curing again, louder this time, he grabbed Tugger and took off, following Mistoffelees.

Following Mistoffelees and the others, Coricopat and Genghis kept pace with one another, reaching a walkway paces behind them and making a jump to a ledge on the right-hand wall.  Carbucketty and Munkustrap appeared a moment later, but got cut off as the scarabs were heard behind them and they had to duck into an alcove. 

Carbucketty started to panic as Munkustrap ran his hand over the wall, finding the catch that caused it to swing inwards and gave them an escape route.  The door closed behind them, shutting the scarabs out but leaving them in a corridor dimly lit by apertures in the ceiling which let in filtered sunlight at intervals.  The two men looked at each other, Carbucketty's panic still apparent.  Munkustrap started to suggest their best route out, but the American turned on his heels and bolted to their left.  Cursing under his breath, and still not entirely sure how he knew that was the wrong direction, Munkustrap followed him at a slightly slower pace.

Macavity yelled after Munkustrap disappeared, still supporting Tugger who had made the jump to the separate ledge only with difficulty. Stepping to the edge of it, Mistoffelees watched the scarabs scatter by, having lost track of Jemima and Tumble, as well as Martin and Demeter in the scramble, hoping his tribe members got the other two to safety--well at least the American to safety.

"They are almost done," he said, shaking his head. "We will attempt to find your friends then."

Whirling, Macavity grabbed him by the shirt. "What the hell are those things?" he yelled as they continued running along the walkway.

"Scarabs, only," Mistoffelees shook his head. "Scarabs are not usually like that. These ones were part of the curse, they were put in with the creature, eating him alive. The scarabs and the creature gave each other immortality. Many lives over the centuries have been claimed by them in this temple."

"I didn't see them last time," Macavity snarled.

"The creature wasn't awake last time," Mistoffelees replied serenely, pushing the taller away and stepping back.

"So you're telling me that there's not only an un-dead mummy walking around here, we've also got immortal flesh-eating bugs?"  Genghis shuddered, "You folks really go all out in the curse department, you know that?"

Mistoffelees gave him a narrow eyed look. "Yes, I suppose my _ancestors_ rather did."

Genghis offered him a long blink at that, "Right, yes. Sorry."

Coricopat rolled his eyes slightly, murmuring what sounded like "Americans" under his breath.  He glanced at Mistoffelees, "How long will we have once they've cleared the walkway to locate the others?"

"Minutes, probably," he said, looking over at the walkway as the last two scurried around a corner. "Quickly," he said, leaping gracefully over the divide and going to the wall where the other two had disappeared through, finding the hidden catch easily.

Coricopat slipped through the aperture after him, glancing at Tugger, "How does your brother find his way through this place so easily?  The catch isn't visible?"

"Lots of studying?" Tugger offered as Mistoffelees lead the way.

"And not enough to know about the cursed mummy?" Genghis replied, scowling.

Coricopat's lip curled up at that, "I highly doubt the mummy was recorded in the texts."

"He did mention he'd heard about the curse though," Macavity said with a scowl, lifting his torch higher, and thinking he saw a form in front of them. "Munkustrap! What the hell? Why did you run off?"

"That's not your friend," Genghis responded, taking a step forward, "Car?  That you?"  The figure turned, revealing that it was indeed Carbucketty, but he was rather gruesomely lacking both of his eyes and his tongue.  Genghis stumbled back at that, "God Almighty!"

Macavity's eyes widened and he took off running down the corridor. "Munkustrap!"

Looking once at the American, Mistoffelees barely kept himself from taking off after Macavity, since he had to protect those who opened the chest first and foremost. "It appears the creature found him," he managed, trying not to be sick at the sight.

Coricopat checked the gun at his hip, "We'll catch up with you.  I"m going to see if I can help Mac."  He glanced at Carbucketty and then bolted after Macavity.

Munkustrap meanwhile found himself facing the very much alive mummy--which bore Carbucketty's eyes and tongue, allowing it to see and speak for the first time in many long centuries.  The librarian found himself backed up against a wall, no weapon at hand and a severe concern for his health.  He glanced briefly away as he thought he heard Macavity, but his gaze snapped back to the undead Egyptian priest quickly.

The mummy of Growltiger murmured something in ancient Egyptian, grinning as he lifted a strand of Munkustrap's hair, something about the Prince being a fitting sacrifice to bring Griddlebone back to him. The decaying corpse stepped back however at a sound, turning in the wrong direction as Macavity skidded to a stop next to Munkustrap. "Do not run off like that, we have to go," he said, so focused on Munkustrap he didn't turn to see the Mummy in the shadows.

Munkustrap pressed himself further into the wall as the Mummy turned away, sliding carefully along the wall toward Macavity, his blue eyes still fixed on the form in the shadows, "Pardon me for trying to avoid the scarabs.  I wasn't expecting this."

"Expect what?" Macavity started and followed his gaze, jumping back. "Whoa!" Taking a breath, he started tugging Munkustrap with him along the wall.

That drew the Mummy's attention back to them, and he unhinged his jaw, letting out a horrific shriek. Eyes widening, Macavity stepped forward and roared right back at him before aiming several shots with the elephant gun at Growltiger's kneecaps and skull, grabbing Munkustrap's wrist and taking off down the hallway.

Munkustrap stumbled slightly but recovered quickly and kept pace with Macavity until they were out of the corridor and emerging into the sunlight.  They'd passed Coricopat on the way out and he hadn't asked questions, turning on his heel and rushing along with them.

Mistoffelees had gotten the Americans out, and Jemima and Tumble had appeared with Demeter and Martin. "What happened?" he asked, stepping forward.

Panting, Macavity rested his hands on his knees, bending over slightly. "Fucking... Mummy. Shot him a few times to slow him down. We should go."

Munkustrap nodded, eyes wide, "I'll explain more on our way, if we could please go _now_."

Mistoffelees nodded, motioning everyone up on their horses or camels. "It will be a two night ride," he said, looking at where dawn was lighting the sky. "We should leave now."

The rest of the party was quick to agree and they got onto their respective mounts, looking to Mistoffelees to lead them to Cairo.  The swaying pace of his camel gradually lulled Munkustrap into a restless sleep--the first he'd had in three nights.

Macavity and Tugger soon dropped off as well, Tugger slouched over the front of his camel, snoring the sleep of the truly smashed.

Considering all of them, Mistoffelees looked over at Jemima, as if questioning why they were sleeping at dawn, though he himself had not slept that night.

Coricopat was quick to follow his three companions into slumber, earning an arched eyebrow from Tumble who turned to Mistoffelees with a shrug.  "Why did we not kill them when they came last time again?"

"Because we were very foolish, or I was," he said, looking down. "I did not expect them to survive the desert, or come back."

"I doubt any of us really expected them to," Tumble admitted after a moment, glancing back at Macavity and Coricopat.

"I hope not," Mistoffelees said and glanced at Jemima. "Are you sure you are up for this ride?" he asked, motioning his chin to her shoulder.

She nodded. "It was a graze, Mistoffelees, not a wound. It is bandaged and I shall be well shortly."

Tumble glanced at her, "I'll take a look at it for you when we finally stop, if you'll permit me?"

"If you would like," she said, smiling over at him and Mistoffelees looked away, trying not to let his eyes stray over to the sleeping Englishman.

Tumble offered her a slight smile in response, "It would make me feel better about it."

"Of course," she said, smiling over at her lover and Mistoffelees allowed his horse to fall back slightly. His duty had always come first and he was trying not to feel jealous.

Coricopat awoke finally as the sun neared its zenith, stretching as much as he could on the camel and shaking his head.  His sleep hadn't been as restful as he might have wished, but it was sleep and for that fact he was grateful.

Mistoffelees glanced over, as he didn't wish to speak to the Americans--and they kept shooting him half as many dark looks as they gave Martin Smith--and Coricopat was the first of his group to wake up. "Welcome back," he said, handing over some food. "Here You should eat. None of your group seems to have slept so I can't imagine you've eaten either."

The Englishman offered him a bit of a smile as he accepted the food, "Thank you.  I think we might have eaten early yesterday at some point, but I can't be sure...the days have rather blended together in my mind."

Mistoffelees arched a brow. "Truly? You all seemed quite tired."

"I might be mistaken, as I said I've lost some track of time, but I think that's the first I've slept in the past three or four days," Coricopat answered, shaking his head.

Mistoffelees blinked. "You do not appear used to such circumstances."

"I haven't been for several years, no."

Smiling faintly, Mistoffelees looked over the desert. "Well, maybe you shall sleep tonight then."

That garnered another smile, "You have no idea how wonderful that suggestion sounds right now."

“Wait for tonight," Mistoffelees said with a faint smile. "We probably won't have the chance for much sleep once we arrive at Cairo."

"This member of your tribe who resides there, may I ask who he is?"

"Bustopher Jones," he replied mildly. "He runs a museum there, to better see how Egyptian society changes around us. We have to be adaptable in the desert after all."

Coricopat nodded slightly, "Well, I suppose that makes sense.  So you've lived out here your whole life then?"

"Yes," he nodded. "Well, mostly."

"Mostly?"

"I went to school," he replied. "Some American Missionaries ran one nearby, and I spent a couple seasons at a madrassa, though I was not a formal pupil there."

Coricopat nodded, "I see."  He glanced toward where Tumble and Jemima were riding, "May I ask why your tribe was chosen to guard Hamunaptra?"

"It wasn't..." Mistoffelees paused. "We are descended from Seti the First's bodyguards, who failed in their duty to protect him, when Griddlebone killed him. Since they we have guarded the creature, making sure it wouldn't awake. But we've failed again."

"What will your people do once the creature is defeated?"  He opted to avoid the idea of 'if' as it didn't bear thinking of.

"It will go back to sleep, not be defeated," Mistoffelees replied. "They were... rather thorough with the curse. Besides, my people have lived in this desert a long time, do you really believe one mummy is all we guard now?"

Coricopat's lips curled up in a wry smile, "So, it has the chance of rising again...I'm wondering the wisdom of such a curse.  I don't doubt there are other things you guard as well, though Lord knows I'd rather not imagine."

"You'd really rather not," Mistoffelees agreed. "I like to think my ancestors didn't think the curse through."

"Well, one would hope they didn't think through the ramifications of cursing a being in such a way as to bring about the apocalypse should he rise."

"Or they figured any world that allowed him to rise was corrupt enough to warrant it," he shrugged. "They were... understandably bitter at the time, though perhaps over reactionary."

"Well, bitter I suppose does make some sense."  He glanced back at the Americans, "What sort of...well, powers I suppose, might we be facing in trying to defend that lot?"

"I'm not sure," Mistoffelees sighed. "He won't be at full powers until he is fully... regenerated. He will be able to move quickly, like the sand, and he will bring the plagues with him. The old writings were not always clear."

"Wonderful, well, I suppose extra vigilance is always wise,” he sighed, shaking his head.

Mistoffelees arched a brow. "Yes, I suppose that could be the motto my people live by."

"You know, I wanted to return to England.  To settle down, take a few years to relax, maybe find someone to settle down with, but no.  Macavity decided to stay down here and managed to nearly get us hung and then 'saved' us by getting us dragged out here by someone who's now bringing about the Apocalypse."  He rolled his eyes, "I swear, if we come out of this alive I'll kill him myself."

Mistoffelees bit back a laugh--this was not the time for laughing. "That seems like something you've said many times before."

"It, rather tragically, has become a running joke with us.  I'm usually too relieved that we've both survived to actually kill him.  Though this is a new situation, usually he gives me a couple of weeks before pulling me into the next situation that requires staring death in the face."

"Quite literally in this case," Mistoffelees mused, and paused, not wanting to ask the next question but finding it slip out before he could stop it. "Who would you have settled down with?"

Coricopat rolled a shoulder, "God only knows.  At the rate I go?  Probably no one.  I haven't been to England in years, and when I left there was no one there capable of holding my interest enough for me to be willing to give my life to them."

"Oh," Mistoffelees said, gaze drifting back to Jemima and Tumble, who rode close together.

The Englishman followed his gaze, pausing for a long moment before speaking again, "Have you anyone?"

"Do I--" Mistoffelees' head snapped around to look at him. "No," he said, finally looking forward again. Coricopat arched an eyebrow, but nodded very slightly. "Is there a reason you asked?" Mistoffelees inquired, still staring ahead.

"Curiosity perhaps.  A penchant to speak before I think sometimes?"

Mistoffelees gave him a faint smile, glancing over. "You probably have spent too much time with the American."

"I heard that," Macavity grumbled, eyes still closed and chin on his chest.

Mistoffelees looked over in surprise. "Do you sleep?"

"Macavity has learned it's best to feign sleep for a time before waking, the better to take stock of the situation, isn’t' that right Mac?"  Cori asked, half considering giving the other's camel a whack to speed it up and see how Macavity responded.

"Well, that and I sleep with one eye open," he grinned. "And when I appear half asleep, I'm always wide awake."

Blinking, Mistoffelees arched a brow at Coricopat. "You have a very odd friend."

Coricopat rolled his eyes, "You have absolutely no idea.  This son of a bitch actually announced we were friends years ago and for some reason I went along with it."

"I can't imagine why," Mistoffelees drawled and Macavity just smirked before rumbling something about being ungodly hungry and Mistoffelees' obligingly handed over some provisions.

"Well, if you can ever sort out the reason, I would love to know," Coricopat remarked, glancing in Macavity's direction and then past him toward where Munkustrap was starting to stir.

Mistoffelees gave him an unreadable look before turning to Munkustrap. "Are you hungry too?"

The librarian blinked against the bright sunlight for a moment, confused as to where he was, before glancing over, "If, if you have anything I certainly wouldn't say no to it."

Mistoffelees quietly handed over some food, having plenty of it packed for the journey. "It is simple fare," he warned.

"It's fine.  Thank you," the other murmured in response.

Nodding, Mistoffelees glanced back at Coricopat before focusing on Munkustrap. "And have you not slept for three nights also?"

Munkustrap sighed, nodding, "Yes.  I got closer than the others did our first night out, but that was before someone attempted to slit my throat."

"Well, that is known to happen sometimes," Mistoffelees deadpanned.

Macavity glanced over at him, somewhere between a glower and a leer. "Dream at all?" he drawled.

Munkustrap turned to look at Macavity, ignoring Mistoffelees, "Yes, actually.  Though about nothing you'd find of note, I'm sure."

"You could try me," Macavity replied, still resentful over the whole raising the mummy issue.

"Ancient Egypt," he answered frankly.

Macavity blinked. "Well, did they have sex in ancient Egypt?" Mistoffelees sputtered, leaning over his saddle pommel to get his breath back.

"Macavity!"  Coricopat exclaimed as Munkustrap went bright red.

The librarian drew a deep breath, "I'm sure they did, but no I didn't dream of it."

Mistoffelees muttered something in Arabic and shook his head, paying more attention to the sands. "The other seems to be sleeping well," he remarked to change the conversation as Macavity steered his camel closer to Munkustrap.

Munkustrap glanced in his brother's direction, "Considering he's the only one of us who's slept and that's because he slipped into a drunken stupor, I'm not much surprised."  He sighed, looking back at the others and startling slightly when he realized how much closer Macavity was.

"Of course," Mistoffelees murmured.

"Hey, don't Muslims have a thing against drinking?" Macavity asked, watching for his reaction and Mistoffelees simply arched a brow at him.

Coricopat sighed heavily, "Mac, can you please not start?"

"Was he starting something?" Mistoffelees asked, tone entirely innocent.

"Only if you rise to it.  He's trying though, probably put out that his attempts at flirting fall flat consistently right now."

Mistoffelees arched another careful brow, a slight flush raising along his cheekbones underneath words tattooed there in Arabic. "So long as he doesn't make such innuendoes at me," he said finally. "I'll do my best not to rise to any bait."

Coricopat shook his head, "He's got his sights set elsewhere."

"So I see," Mistoffelees remarked, glancing over to Munkustrap and then ahead again.


	5. Getting Distracted Instead of Focusing

They stopped and set up camp as the last rays of the sun sank below the horizon in the west.  Tumblebrutus made his way through the small camp to his leader's side, "We've made good time thus far."

"Thus far," he agreed. "For not being of the desert they ride well."

"Another day and a half and we should be in Cairo."

"We may still be behind the creature," he pointed out. "Though I think so long as he doesn't have his full powers, he will move slowly across the desert."

"That is the hope," Tumble murmured.  He glanced at the other, "You rode in the company of those who had awakened him for quite a time today."

Arching a brow, Mistoffelees considered him. "And would you consider that a bad thing?"

"No, but perhaps a curious one.  I hadn't really expected it."

Mistoffelees shrugged, glancing over at where Tugger was now quite awake and getting louder by the second. "I suppose it was unexpected. But they are interesting."

"Interesting is certainly one way of putting it."

Swiftly pulling things off his horse to set up camp, Mistoffelees stopped long enough to give Tumble a stare. "How would you put it?"

"Troublesome perhaps?" Tumblebrutus offered.

"Why would it be that?" Mistoffelees asked, yanking the supplies harder then he needed to, causing his horse to stomp a leg on the ground and give him a betrayed expression. Soothing the horse quietly in Arabic, he turned back to Tumble with a raise brow.

"I was saying that they're troublesome," Tumble answered warily.  "Are we talking about the same thing any longer?"

Mistoffelees blinked once. "Yes. Would you care to water the horses?"

Tumble's brows rose at that, but he nodded, "Of course.  I'll see to them."  He led Mistoffelees' horse to join the others and started to get them settled in for the night.

Mistoffelees buried his face against his horse's neck for a moment, muttering something further in Arabic.

Coricopat approached, pausing a few paces away and arching his eyebrow at the smaller man, "Mistoffelees?"

"Yes?" he asked, lifting his head quickly.

"Is...that is are you alright?"

"Perfectly fine," he said, with the most charming and confident smile he could pull off.

"Does the horse respond much when you speak to him?" Coricopat asked, sounding honestly curious.

"Yes," Mistoffelees said promptly. "We have many philosophical debates and he gives very good advice." The mount in question chose that moment to snort, gaining a long look from Mistoffelees.

Coricopat smiled at that, "He seems skeptical of that."

"I can't imagine why," Mistoffelees murmured.

"Do you take the good advice he gives you?"

"Often," Mistoffelees nodded. "He's a very sage horse, remember?"

That garnered a bit of a laugh, "Right, how could I have forgotten so soon?"

"I don't know but it says terrible things for your memory."

Coricopat shook his head, still smiling, "Must be all the brushes with death.  He seems a fine horse, though.  Even beyond the sage advice."

"Yes, I rather think so," Mistoffelees said quietly. "And how do you like camp?" he asked before this line of questioning could continue further, and winced at how inane that sounded.

"Beyond the fact that half the camp isn't talking to the other half or so?  It's a good location, and could be companionable, if not for the reason behind it."

"We don't have all that much in common, over all," Mistoffelees replied.

"Well, I suppose that's true.  But really that's not much reason for a silence between people."

"Then what would you discuss with someone you didn't have much in common with?" Mistoffelees asked, clicking his tongue at his horse and leading him to the watering hole they'd stopped at.

"I'd ask questions ad I did earlier to find out about their lives, about things that go on around them.  Perhaps find out about their horse that gives sage advice," Coricopat answered, following him.

Mistoffelees shot him a harsh look, unsure how to react to that. "Y-yes, I suppose that would be one way to deal with it," he said, pushing back the hood he'd worn all day, thick black hair glad to be free.

Coricopat's eyes widened as he processed what he'd said and how it could be taken, in partnership with the other's expression, "Lord, that came out more insulting than I had meant it.  I suppose I should warn you now, my communication skills can be, on occasion, pretty much non-existent.  I'm terribly sorry."

The corner of Mistoffelees' mouth quirked, as if all was forgiven then. "Alright," he murmured. "I'll be sure to keep that at the front of my mind."

"I meant to say that it would be a matter of talking to someone, getting to know them and the like," he offered a rueful smile.

"I've yet to hear of another way of getting to know someone," he replied, smoothing a hand down the horse's  neck as he bent his head to drink. "But why are you here?"

The Englishman watched him, "Here as in Egypt or here as in here?"

"Talking to me of all the people in the camp," he replied.

"Because I found you handsome and charming when we were talking earlier," he answered honestly.

Mistoffelees blinked so rapidly Jemima looked up from the other side of the well to consider him, sensing his distress from there. "Charming," Mistoffelees tried to focus on. "Attack at night notwithstanding?"

"Attack at night notwithstanding," Coricopat agreed.  "I did say when we were talking was when I found you such, after all."

Considering him again, Mistoffelees nodded. "Alright, if you say so."

The brunet hesitated for a moment before inclining his head slightly, "I suppose I should make certain my companions aren't causing more trouble than they've already accomplished..."

With another unreadable look Mistoffelees shrugged and turned away. "Certainly."

Pausing briefly again, Coricopat finally shook his head and retreated to where Macavity, Munkustrap, and Tugger were.

o-o-o-o

After the camp was set for the night and a couple of fires lit, Munkustrap moved over to sit down carefully next to Macavity, though he kept his gaze focused on their fire.

Macavity glanced over at him in some surprise from where he was cleaning his rifle. "Can I help you?"

He rolled a shoulder in response, "Probably not.  I just was looking for a bit of company I suppose."

Giving him another long look Macavity pointed across the fire. "Your brother is over there, what're you doing over here?"

"If you would rather I go sit by my brother then I'll do so," he answered almost testily.  "Tugger has been drunk or asleep for most of the last twenty-four hours and I'm edging toward sick of it."

"Well he's awake now and probably more hung over then drunk," Macavity replied. "Though, circumstances being what they are I couldn't blame him."

Munkustrap's jaw tensed and he glanced away at that, "No, I can't say I blame him, but it doesn't necessarily mean I want to be in his space right now."

"So you chose mine instead, how flattering," Macavity said, not looking up from the gun. "After avoiding me all day, raising an undead Mummy the night and your assorted rejections."

"I haven't been avoiding you all day," Munkustrap protested, knowing he had no way to disagree with the other two accusations.

"Uh-huh," Macavity replied, not entirely bothering to look over at him.

The librarian scowled, "What do you want me to say?  I don't understand you at all."

Setting the gun down, Macavity turned to glare at him. "You don't listen to a damned thing I say. Which, according to Cor, is actually the smart thing. I tell you you have gorgeous eyes and you take it as an insult. I tell you not to mess around with curses because I know something's wrong and what do you do? End the world. And you act like the aggrieved party. I know when to back down, though no one seems to believe that."

Munkustrap blinked at him for a long moment, "Alright, yes, I should have listened to you regarding the curse, there's no argument I can offer there and I wouldn't presume to even if there were.  As to my eyes, they're...I mean, that is, I had thought you were being trite."

Macavity's glare intensified. "I'm not a trite person."

Flinching, Munkustrap nodded, "I'm beginning to understand that.  I just... compliments are uncommon at best.  My brother lies to me as easily as to anyone else and I've been told in no uncertain terms that I have no merit whatsoever in my chosen field beyond peoples' respect for my father, I... I fear I didn't know what to do with your attention.  It just, it makes no sense in my mind."

Growling slightly, Macavity turned from where he was sitting and dragged Munkustrap closer, meeting his eyes. "Then listen. You have gorgeous eyes. You're intelligent when you're not doing stupid things to prove people wrong. Work on that. You know things other people don't and you seem rather versed in your chosen field so ignore whoever said that. You're attractive and smart, so stop acting like you're neither." With his piece said he turned back around picked his gun up again.

The librarian rocked back slightly, staring at the other in shock for a long moment.  Reaching over he carefully pushed the gun away a bit so he could turn Macavity's chin so the other was facing him.  Before he could actually think about what he was doing, Munkustrap leaned over and pressed a kiss to the other man's lips, "Thank you."

"You have got to be complimented more often," Macavity murmured.

The Englishman's lips quirked into a faint smile at that, "Perhaps.  Though you do rather an amazing job of it when you take it into your head to do so."

"Now you say that," Macavity groused.

"Now you prove it," Munkustrap countered, kissing the other man's jaw lightly.

Macavity blinked, glancing over across the campfire. "Is that I managed it or are you asking for more proof?" His hand slipped along Munkustrap's side and rested on his waist.

Munkustrap nuzzled against the American's throat, pressing a feather-light kiss there, "You've managed it."

"Good," Macavity rumbled, the sound coming from his chest. Leaning down, he kissed Munkustrap as deeply as he could before drawing back.

Munkustrap's cheeks were flushed when they pulled away and he offered the other a hesitant smile, reaching up to trace a hand along Macavity's cheek and jawline, "I do apologize for my earlier rejections."

"Are you now?" Macavity asked, arching a brow. "You seemed pretty set on them at the time."

"Well, I...I almost always seem pretty set on things that I find to be a bit of a mistake later.  It's the things that I'm uncertain about that tend to last."

"We'll just have to work on that, huh?"

Munkustrap offered him another smile and a very slight nod, "I think I could live with that."

Glancing around the fire, Macavity offered Munkustrap another smile and a quick kiss before pulling back, returning to his gun to finish reassembling it.

Settling in to watch him work, Munkustrap glanced up as Coricopat approached their fire.  The brunet arched an eyebrow at his friend and the librarian, "Getting along again then?"

"For the time being," Macavity replied with a faint smirk.

"Oh that sounds certain," Coricopat arched a brow.

"Which is the beauty of it," Munkustrap returned with a smile.

Macavity smiled as across the fire, the small group of nomads riding with them settled, Jemima choosing, unwisely to sit next to Tugger for the moment.

"A woman rides with them!" Tugger declared, perhaps a bit too loudly, getting the attention of the Americans as well. Jemima gave him a dark look as she brushed back her hood, revealing reddish, lighter hair then most of the tribe.

"And what is that to you, English cur?" she demanded, defensive as Mistoffelees rested a hand on her arm.

"I'm half Egyptian, you know," he huffed, suddenly paying a lot more attention to her features.

She gave him another disbelieving look. "Were you not raised in England?"

"Well, yes, but--" he started to explain about his father's adventurer tendencies and his Egyptian mother.

"Then you are still an English cur you knows little of the ways of his own people and nothing of mine," she snapped, rising to see to the horses and stalking off toward the darkness.

"You know, I think I like her," Tugger told Munkustrap, eying where he was still cuddled against Macavity's side as the red-haired man continued cleaning his revolver.

"You are hopeless," Macavity told him.

Mistoffelees simply blinked at the entire incident.

Tumble didn't bother to even sit down, having approached during Tugger's conversation with Jemima.  He offered the Englishman a dark look and followed his lover toward the horses without a word.

Coricopat rubbed his eyes, glancing at Munkustrap, "Is he always--"

"Like that?  Usually," came the younger brother's answer.

Tugger shrugged, looking completely happy with himself for having offended half the campsite, even Demeter shooting him a few dark looks, and Martin Smith appearing quite amused over all.

Munkustrap sighed, shaking his head at his brother, though he was one of the few who was neither surprised nor offended by Tugger's behavior.  Genghis' brows had arched, but he'd kept most of his attention on Carbucketty during the exchange, seeing to his companion's well-being as much as possible.

When everyone settled down in the camp to sleep, Macavity wrapped himself around Munkustrap to sleep, shooting a few warning looks at their fellow travelers, as if daring them to say anything.

Except then in the middle of the night he was shocked awake by Munkustrap flailing.

The dreams Munkustrap had had since he was a boy had always been vague, leaving him more with a sense of time than an actual view of what was going on around him.  The one that night was an entirely different sort.  Vivid in its details, the gold of the palace walls and the sting of the blades he fought with were all to real.  He was flipped over his opponent's back, never getting a good look at them and woke suddenly as he hit the floor, "Gods."  His eyes darted about quickly, trying to re-orient himself, "Where...?"

"In the desert," Macavity rumbled."That did not seem like an improper dream, what's going on in your head?"

"I told you.  I dream of Ancient Egypt with regularity," he answered softly, even as his eyes swept the camp and he kept looking like he was trying to ground himself back in reality.

"Yeah, but that seems extreme," Macavity murmured. "You were almost screaming."

Wrapping his arms around himself, the librarian sat up and shook his head, "They, they've never been that vivid before."

Macavity pushed himself up too. "Anything to talk about?"

"It's hard to explain.  It, it wasn't like I was seeing it this time.  It was, it was like I was actually living it, I could feel everything that happened, all of my senses were engaged.  It was some sort of fight, I...I don't know really how it came out in the end though."

Macavity ran a hand across Munkustrap's hair. "Sh. You're here now, no fighting at the moment."

He leaned into the touch, closing his eyes, "Not at the moment, but there's going to be."

"Maybe," Macavity shrugged. "Not tonight though. Come back to sleep."

"I..." the librarian swallowed, but finally nodded, laying back down, "Here's hoping for dreamlessness."

"Or at least different ones."

He offered Macavity a faint smile at that, "Different ones would be good as well."

"Then sleep," Macavity said, still sounding sleepy himself and running a hand up and down Munkustrap's back. The librarian curled closer to him, eyes drifting shut as he slipped back into a hopefully restful sleep.

o-o-o-o

The next day’s ride was long, but mostly uneventful as Mistoffelees pushed them to go faster, Tugger attempting to flirt with Jemima on and off along the way.

Tumblebrutus had spent most of the ride keeping pace with Jemima and offering Tugger dark looks from time to time when he became too blatant.  They stopped and set up camp as the sky darkened overhead, less than a half-day's hard ride from Cairo.  Munkustrap slipped from his camel's back, glancing at Macavity as he saw to the animal--his night had passed as uneventfully as the day after he had gone back to sleep.

Mistoffelees stopped in front of Macavity, casting wary glances at Tugger and Tumble. "We will arrive at Cairo tomorrow," he said. "But once there will have little chance for sleep or rest so I suggest you take it now," he added, looking again at Munkustrap, having been awake last night to hear the murmured conversation about nightmares.

Munkustrap's gaze darted to Mistoffelees and he nodded slightly, taking the bedrolls off of his camel and turning away to where Coricopat was getting a fire set and lit.

Mistoffelees considered the group before moving quickly to water the rest of the horses, stopping to murmur something in Tumble's ear about ignoring Tugger, as said Englishman attempted to impress Jemima with his wit, only to have her elbow him in the stomach.

Tumble sighed at that instruction, though his lips curled into a faint smile at Jemima's response to Tugger.  He paused for a moment before turning to go and help Mistoffelees with the horses rather than watch the Englishman flirting with his lover any longer.

"He won't succeed," Mistoffelees assured him.

Tumble sighed, "I know, that doesn’t mean it doesn't grate."

Mistoffelees rested a hand on his shoulder. "It'll be fine. Just give it time and then you'll never see him again."

"Oh won't that be a wonderful day," Tumble murmured, glancing back at the camp with a grimace.

Mistoffelees smiled and patted his shoulder again before returning to camp.

Once the fire was lit and the camp was settling in for the night, Munkustrap sat down beside Macavity, curling up against the other's side without really thinking about it.

Macavity leaned down and kissed him, trying not to feel soothed by how rattled the other was acting. Settling nearby, across the fire from the Americans, Mistoffelees found himself unable to stop watching them.

Munkustrap pressed up into the kiss briefly before Genghis cleared his throat sharply, startling the librarian and causing him to pull back slightly. Looking around, Macavity noticed Mistoffelees in particular watching. "What?" he snapped.

Munkustrap glanced at Mistoffelees, but lay a hand on Macavity's knee, "Hush, they've got a right to their own opinions."

Macavity shrugged as Mistoffelees gave them another look and rose, retreating back toward were the horses were.

Curling closer again, Munkustrap watched from the corner of his eye as Coricopat rose, apparently debating whether to follow Mistoffelees.  Making a decision finally, the brown-haired Englishman turned away from the fire to follow the smaller man toward the horses.

Mistoffelees glanced over at him, from where he was brushing down Jemima's mount. "Can I be of service to you?"

"I," he paused, shrugging slightly, "not in any specific way, no."

"Then why are you out here?" he asked softly.

"In part to make sure Macavity hasn't done anything to offend you, I suppose.  But beyond that?  I like your company."

"You keep saying things like that, and I'm still not sure I understand you," Mistoffelees mused, patting Jemima's horse on the nose.

"What don't you understand?"  Coricopat asked, a flicker of confusion lighting his features.

"Why you're here, him, the creature," Mistoffelees shrugged.

"I think I told you why I was here last night.  Macavity's an enigma even to those who have known him for years if that's any consolation in that regard."  He paused for a moment, "You say the creature's something you don't understand?"

"Never mind," he said, shaking his head. "That wasn't what I--" he shook his head again.

The next question came softly, "Then what did you mean?"

"Nothing," he said, looking down. "I am simply concerned."

 Coricopat hesitated, "That we'll be too late?"

"That we already are and yet I'm here, simply getting distracted instead of focusing..."

"We're not too late yet.  There's still some hope left to us,” Coricopat tried to assure but Mistoffelees just shook his head.

"You don't know that yet," he replied. "We could be."

"He's not yet fully regenerated.  We still have a chance,” the Englishman pressed.

"We still have a--" Mistoffelees cut off with a high pitched, hysterical laugh. "Right. We just have to protect the Americans. Because that will be simple when speaking of a creature who cannot be killed or stopped, only distracted or slowed down."

Coricopat drew a deep breath, "There has to be something we can do to keep this from happening.  To keep him from completing his goals."

"Like what?" Mistoffelees demanded. "What suggestions would you have?"

Flinching slightly at that, he shook his head, "I don't know.  I...But giving up before we've even looked into possibilities doesn't sit well with me."

Mistoffelees' eyes narrowed. "Have I given up? Do you think I will not fight with my entire body and soul on the line? That does not mean I think we will succeed."

"Giving up success as a lost cause then," he countered, shaking his head.  "I just, he supposedly brings back all ten of the ancient plagues, yes?"

"Yes," Mistoffelees said, looking wary. "But he's gained back no more power since the first two."

Coricopat sighed, "I don't even know where I'm going with this.  I just can't bring myself to consider it a lost cause until there is absolutely no hope.  Not with the plagues that have yet to come."

"And when they do come?" Mistoffelees asked.

"Then I will face them as they come.  I'll fight this creature to my last breath if need be, though I hope it won't come to that."

Slowly, Mistoffelees turned back to the horse, taking a breath and letting it out. "And what would you do if it doesn't come to that?"

"You mean if we actually manage to defeat the creature?  I'm not sure.  I've learned a long time ago that it's best not to make long-term plans," Coricopat answered, watching him.

He shrugged, glancing over. "I suppose that's true."

"And you?  You'll return to guarding Hamunaptra?"

"Of course," he replied. "There isn't much else for me to go, or anywhere for me to go. My duty there must always come first."

Coricopat glanced back toward the fire where the others were gathered, "Do you ever grow lonely?"

"What time would I have to get lonely?" he asked. "I am surrounded by those of my people."

His gaze finding Munkustrap and Macavity among those gathered by the fire, Coricopat shook his head, "That's not exactly what I meant."

"Then what did you mean?" he asked, turning to lean back and look at him.

"You told me yesterday that, well, you didn't have anyone." Coricopat hesitated before continuing, "I've seen how you look at your tribe members, and honestly how you watched Munkustrap and Macavity this evening."

Mistoffelees' eyes narrowed. "And which way is that?"

He paused again, but responded after a moment, "Like you wish you were one of them.  Or at least like you wish you had something like that.  Unless my ability to read people has completely fallen to pieces."

For a moment Mistoffelees' mouth worked before he looked away. "Your Macavity would think my look distaste."

"That's because he hasn't worn that same look in a very long time, if ever."

"So what, what are you trying to figure out?" Mistoffelees asked, faint flush highlighting his tattoos again.

Coricopat blinked at him for a moment, "Am I correct in my assessment, I suppose? Though, more than that, what are _you_ looking for?"

"But that's just it," Mistoffelees said. "I'm not supposed to be looking for anything because I'm supposed to be content in my duty. I am the leader of my tribe, and the twelve Medjai tribes look to me," he said. "My own personal life it's not," he shook his head again. "It's not relevant."

"It should be relevant though, even if it doesn't take priority, it should still be thought of as relevant."

"It's--" Mistoffelees started, sounding frustrated.

"It's probably not worth perusing, Cor," Macavity said, having finally come to check on them. "After all, think of who he is."

"And who is that?" Mistoffelees snapped.

Coricopat startled, turning to face his friend, "I don't believe I asked your opinion, Mac."

"You didn't," Macavity agreed. "But come on, he's what, a Muslim? How happy do you think he'd be with a guy coming onto him?"

Flinching at that, Coricopat glanced at Mistoffelees before steeling himself, "Well as he hasn't told me to leave off, probably better than you seem to be presuming."

"Oh come on, Cor," Macavity said. "He's been acting like the sight burns him since he tromped in on our group and started ordering us around. Besides, you know as well as I do how Islamic folks feel about two men--"

"I can hardly tell if you think so little of me or of my people," Mistoffelees cut in, suddenly. Eying Macavity, who turned to look at him but still on the defensive, he continued speaking to Macavity, even as his gaze drifted over to Coricopat, without meaning to. "My people have adapted to the change in this land, as we have for the last three thousand years, but we are hardly practicing Muslims and are unlikely to become such, though we appear it to deflect suspicion. Our lifestyles could never have made us devout either. We have seen too much of other-worldly beings, and have come into too much contact with the Egyptian deities to believe them mere myths."

He suddenly appeared to switch subjects, Macavity blinking in shock at him. "Have you not encountered the contesting of Set and Horus?"

Coricopat sought his memory and then nodded very slightly, "I believe I am familiar with that one, yes." Macavity shrugged his agreement.

"Then did you hear the part, that in all their contests eventually Set attempted to seduce Horus?" Mistoffelees asked, crossing his arms over his chest and as defensive as Macavity. "They tried many things, after all, to get the upper hand over each other, but Set decided, eventually, on that tact, telling Horus what a lovely back he had. The whole episode was fraught with scheming and tricks of course, and it was about who dominated or gained the upper hand over who, but they lay together and the question was not the act, but the dominance." He shook his head. "My people are more complicated then you want to give them credit for, Macavity." With another shake of his head he turned and stalked off, heading to skitter around the camp and end up some distance away on the other side, deeper into the oasis.

Coricopat gaped after him, trying to process what had just been said and what it might well mean, "That..."

"Okay, I could have been wrong," Macavity said, gaping after him too.

"Perhaps it's best if you just choose to keep your mouth shut from now on?"  His friend offered, watching Mistoffelees leave, but too afraid to follow him. 


	6. I Do That to People

Reaching Cairo in the early afternoon, having traveled since dawn, Macavity turned his camel toward one of the British hotels still in the city, where Munkustrap had been living the last several months. Mistoffelees leaned over to murmur to Coricopat that he would join them there, after speaking to his contact before he turned his horse away from the group, Jemima and Tumblebrutus staying to guard the Americans.

They dismounted in front of the hotel and entered, Munkustrap heading upstairs to his rented room while the Americans saw to getting a temporary room for the day—they hoped to be out of the city by nightfall.  Coricopat looked around the entrance room, shaking his head slightly and glancing at Macavity, “What’s the plan from here?”

“We,” Macavity said, watching the nomads follow the Americans. “Are taking those brothers and running all for it.”  
  
“Agreed,” Tugger nodded, from where he was behind Macavity’s shoulder, startling the red-haired man.

Coricopat frowned, “You can’t be seriously intending to run.”

“And you’re not?” Tugger asked, considering him. “Honestly? We’re facing god only knows what—in fact I bet you god would have no idea what we’re dealing with, and did anyone else notice the strangeness of someone cursed by Egyptians bringing about Biblical plagues? Point being, this is insane and I am out of here. I’ll get my bag,” he added, taking off down another corridor.   
  
Macavity looked after him before turning to Coricopat. “And you don’t want to leave?”

“No, frankly, I think we’re partially responsible and should see what we can do to bring a stop to all of this,” his friend replied.  “But if you’re set on it, have fun convincing the other brother.”

Macavity scowled at him. “Will I have to convince you too?” he asked. “Because I can always knock Munkustrap off and sling him over my camel and ride off if I have to.”

Coricopat paused before nodding, “You’ll have to either convince me or leave me here.”

Scowl only deepening, Macavity turned away, stomping up the stairs toward Munkustrap’s room. Blazing inside, he looked around before dragging Munkustrap’s travel chest out from where it had been pushed against a wall out of the way.

Munkustrap turned from where he’d been going through his books to see if there was anything that might be of use to them, “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“Packing,” he growled in reply, yanking open a drawer and upending the contents into the chest, scattering undershirts and socks all over.

“That would strongly imply that you think we’re leaving,” came the response as Munkustrap crossed the room and scooped the clothing from the chest to drop it on the bed, since the drawer was useless unattached to the dresser as it was.

Pulling open the next drawer, Macavity gathered up armfuls of sweaters and dumped them into the chest, sweeping the clothing off the bed and back in as well. “That’s because we are.”

Munkustrap gathered the sweaters and undergarments and dumped them all back into the second drawer, shutting it again, “Nonsense.  You can’t honestly expect us to leave before we at least try to find a way to reverse this.”

“Oh yes I can,” Macavity replied, emptying the third drawer and considering breaking the second one as well. “I don’t care if you’re feeling a sense of duty or if Coricopat’s feeling some lusty thoughts for a desert Sheik, we are gone, out the door and down the hall and on the fastest fucking boat out of here.”

“We most certainly are not!”  Munkustrap swept up the latest clothes, dropping them into the third drawer and slamming it shut, “We woke him up and we have to find a way to stop him.  Do you really think running will allow you to escape this problem?”

“I’ll let other people die for it,” Macavity responded, finally reaching the fourth drawer. “It’s what that tribe is supposed to be for right? Stopping this stuff? They can deal with it.”

Munkustrap’s eyes narrowed and he positioned himself next to the trunk, waiting for Macavity to drop the latest batch of clothes into it.  He slammed the lid of the trunk, hard, on the other’s hands, “Have you no shame at all?  We don’t have a choice.  We can’t outrun this.  It will destroy the world if he’s not stopped.”

“I didn’t wake him up,” Macavity replied, sucking his knuckle and glaring before shaking his hand out and shoving them both into his trouser pockets. “And I don’t give a damn that you did either. No mortal weapon can kill him, remember? I don’t know about you but all my weapons are mortal!”

“So we find a _immortal_ one! There’s got to be something, and I’m not leaving until I find it or die trying.”

“I have no intention of standing here and watching you die in front of me then!” Macavity snarled, stepping forward to use his slight height advantage to glare down at the other. “So we. Are. Leaving,” he said, punctuating each word with a jab at Munkustrap’s chest.

Standing his ground, Munkustrap narrowed his blue eyes, taking a step closer into the jabs, “No.  You might be leaving. My coward of a brother might be leaving, but I’m staying. Go then if you’d rather not watch me die in front of you. I have no intention of dying, but if that’s what you’re so worried about then I thank you to leave now.”

“Oh, well, if you have no _intention_ I’m sure everything will be fine!” Macavity replied sarcastically. “Why are you so set on getting yourself killed?”

“I’m not going to get myself killed!” Munkustrap snapped in response, “But I am going to find a way to defeat him.  We’re still missing some key piece, I’m sure of it.”

“And where would you find that piece?” Macavity demanded. “What could you possibly do to find it?”

“I don’t know yet, but I’ll be damned before I give up without trying.”

Macavity scowled, stepping back and spreading his arms out. “Fine!”

“Fine!”  Munkustrap snarled, gathering his clothes from the trunk and shoving them back into the drawer with probably more force than necessary, “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some searching to do.”

“Fine!” Macavity repeated, throwing his hands up in the air and stalking off, slamming the door behind him. Munkustrap stared at the door for a long moment before moving over to his books again and trying to find anything that might help them. At this rate he might have to go to the museum and see about access to Jones’ library.

Coricopat was leaning against the wall outside of Munkustrap’s room, “What happened to knocking him out and hauling him off on your camel?”

“Still working on it,” he snarled, stomping back down the stairs toward the bar. His friend hesitated for a long moment before following him.  Macavity rarely entered a bar, and Coricopat had long since learned that it was best to pursue him when he did.

Almost throwing himself on a stool, Macavity didn’t look surprised to see Tugger there, though Tugger looked shocked to see him. “What?” he snapped.

“Thought you didn’t like drink,” Tugger remarked over his gin.

Baring his teeth at him, Macavity motioned for a scotch instead of answering, downing the drink in one go.

Coricopat approached the bar quietly, ordering a gin before perching himself on the stool next to Macavity, “Are you truly set on leaving?”

“Give me one good reason to stay,” he returned. “And you know how I do with duty and honor so try something better.”

“To keep Munkustrap alive,” his friend offered. “He doesn’t seem inclined to leave, and from what I’ve seen has a penchant for getting himself into horrible messes faster than anyone I’ve ever met.”

“You’ve met me,” Macavity returned, sounding almost petulant.

“And that is exactly my point,” Coricopat replied. “You at least have always found a way out of trouble. I’m not sure he’s figured that part out.”

“Probably hasn’t, the bastard,” Macavity seethed.

“Hey,” Tugger protested weakly. “That is my little brother you’re calling that.”

 Downing another shot of scotch, Macavity shook his head. “This means I’ll have to stick around and teach him how to get out of trouble won’t it?”

“Knowing you? Probably,” Coricopat answered. “And I’ll be along to make sure you manage to get out of it yourself.”

Macavity snorted. “No, you’re going to be here to make sure your little Sheik gets out alive so you can have wicked ways with him under the stars in the desert.” Tugger choked on the next swallow. “Anyway,” Macavity continued. “I should,” he hesitated when he thought he saw someone in a heavy cloak walk by, someone who looked like Plato nearby. “Go check on something,” he said, slipping off his stool.

Coricopat turned, watching him but not denying that he was staying to make certain Mistoffelees survived, “Mac?  What are you checking on?”

“That idiotic man,” he replied, distracted, before moving off.

Blinking, Coricopat turned to Tugger, “Strangely enough, I think you might make more sense than he does sometimes.”

Tugger shrugged, taking another drink. “I’ll just take that statement at face value and believe you gave me a compliment.”

Striding forward, Macavity caught Plato by the shoulder and slammed him around, the black robed figure already around the corner and out of sight. “Hey, you little bastard, where have you been?”

“You left me in the desert to rot!” Plato protested. “I’m the aggrieved party here, Hollister, not you!”

Scowling, Macavity shoved him back again. “Somehow I feel like you have some other sort of motivation here.”

“I’m here to help the Americans, I heard the bad news—” Plato started.

Macavity blinked. “You don’t have any scruples,” he returned.

“You’re right. Do you know where I could steal some?” Plato asked and Macavity dropped him as if in distaste.

“I don’t trust you,” he said, shaking his head slightly.

“Never expected you too,” Plato returned, scurrying off before Macavity could grab him again, and around the same corner as the robed figure. Shaking his head, Macavity walked upstairs, going to try talking to Munkustrap again.

Munkustrap was on his way out of his room, a book in hand.  He paused at the sight of Macavity, hand still on the doorknob, “You’re still here then.”

“Do I look like I’ve left yet?” Macavity asked. “Someone needs to make sure you don’t do stupid things while looking for some immortal weapon or whatever it is. And I can hardly abandon Cor, even if he has gone starry eyed over some desert nomad.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re not just staying on my account.  Wouldn’t want that to be the case,” he went to push past Macavity.

Macavity caught his arm and spun him back around. “Hey, what did I say about making sure you didn’t do stupid things to get yourself killed?”

Munkustrap wrenched his arm from Macavity’s grip, “I’m sorry, I assumed that walking down the hall was still considered passably safe. I didn’t realize that was a life-threatening act now.”

“Oh for the love of,” Macavity muttered, shaking his head. “Who knows? It might be. Look, I just—”

“You just _what_?” he crossed his arms, still holding the book in his right hand.

“Clearly it doesn’t matter,” Macavity returned, snatching the book from him to thumb through it. “But you think this will help?”

Munkustrap reached for it, pulling it away, “Considering how much it has on the legends surrounding Hamunaptra?  Yes, I do.”

Slamming the book shut, Macavity pressed it against Munkustrap’s chest. “I’m still here. What more do you want from me?”

“I don’t recall ever asking anything from you in the first place,” he answered sharply. “Stay if you like, come if you want. I’m going to the museum.” When he turned to continue down the hallway, Macavity followed close on his heels.

o-o-o-o

Jemima stood at one end of the hallway, trying to calm down both Genghis and Demeter, who were waving their hands around and yelling in what Jemima considered a highly American fashion, as Tumblebrutus stood behind her, silently backing her up as she tried to explain they were doing everything possible to protect the group.

Martin Smith had brushed them all off, only to be dragged to the bar and deposited there in Coricopat and Tugger’s care.

Now, Plato approached the top of the stairs, seeing the group at the end of the hallway occupied before leading the robed figure past them and into Carbucketty’s room, not much bothering to knock. Carbucketty turned his head in that direction, stammering out as best he was able, “Who-who’s there?”

“I’m saddened you don’t recognize me,” Plato replied, leading the figure deeper into the room. “After all I’ve done for you and your group that is, though I suppose now you’d have to hear me speak for that, huh?” he asked, leaning his head down to stare at where Carbucketty’s eyes had once been.

“Plato? Where have you been?” Carbucketty tilted his head slightly to one side even as he pulled away slightly.

“In the desert,” he said. “Where everyone abandoned me. But that’s alright, I found a new master,” he said as the robed figure moved around to sit down. “He’d like to meet you now.”

Turning his head in the direction of the sound of movement, Carbucketty frowned very slightly, “Who is he?”

 Plato paused, grinning broadly which Carbucketty could not see. “The Prince Growltiger thanks you for your help. And your eyes… and your tongue.”

Making a distressed noise that came close to a shout, Carbucketty pressed back into his chair, away from where he’d last heard movement that wasn’t Plato. 

It didn't help him much as the darkly robed figure rose, shedding the mask and robe to reveal the mummified corpse of Growltiger, who smirked before leaning down, sucking the life force that remained out of the American.

o-o-o-o

Downstairs in the bar, Coricopat turned as an older man, his red hair faded to an off-white, entered.  he sighed and turned back to the bar as the man started in on talking to one of the customers nearest the door. " I'm the last of the Royal Force still stationed here, you know? All the other laddies died in the air and were buried in the sand."  He was pushed away unceremoniously and he stumbled slightly, catching himself on the bar between Coricopat and Tugger, "Ever since the end of the Great War, there hasn't been a challenge worthy of a man like me."  His green eyes drifted to Coricopat and then to Tugger and back.

Coricopat sighed again, nodding, "So you've told me before, Skimble old friend."

Tugger blinked at him sideways. "You can take the challenge I'm dealing with if you like."

Skimbleshank's eyes lit up, "Is it dangerous?"

"No," Coricopat cut in, "It's frightfully dull."  He handed the man what remained of his drink and pushed him toward a more amenable looking table.  As Skimble turned in that direction, starting in about wishing he'd been able to go down in glory rather than remain stuck in Egypt aging and rotting away his years, Cori looked at Tugger, "No mention of that to him, understand?"

"Um, sure?" Tugger offered. "Why? What's he gonna do?"

"Go off and get himself killed likely.  And as happy as that might make him, I'd rather not be the root cause behind it," he answered softly, watching Skimbleshanks.

Tugger shrugged, turning back to his drink. "Fine."

As Skimbleshanks finally left, there was a crash as glasses broke and patrons spit out their drinks.  Coricopat turned around in shock, "What...?"

Sputtering, Tugger held up his own drink. "Um, hell," he said, shifting the glass in the light, showing where the clear liquid had turned red. "That's... that's another plague then."

"And the rivers and waters of Egypt went red and were as blood," Coricopat quoted, eyes fixed on the fountain in the middle of the bar for a long moment before rising and rushing toward the stairs.

Tugger glanced at him, looking somewhat stricken as they heard Demeter's scream from upstairs as they discovered the husk that had been Carbucketty. As Macavity and Munkustrap reached the bar area, Martin just smirked as he watched the patrons run around, trying to figure out what was wrong with their drinks.

"What is it?" Macavity demanded, torn between running back upstairs and figuring out why everyone was in a blind panic downstairs.

Coricopat came to a stop next to him, "It's the next plague.  The waters have changed."

"Blood?"  Munkustrap paled when the other nodded.  "And Demeter?  That was who screamed wasn't it?"

"I don't know, I've been down here," came the answer.

Jemima appeared at the top of the stairs. "Carbucketty has been taken," she said, shaking slightly as suddenly outside in the hotel's courtyard, fire started falling some the sky, breaking the fountain and sending the already panicked costumers scurrying the other direction.

Coricopat glanced at Macavity and then at Munkustrap, "Does anyone have any suggestions at this point, because we're all more than willing to hear them."

Munkustrap nodded slightly, "I was planning to speak to the curator at the museum.  He may have some answers, certainly knew more about Hamunaptra than he would tell me originally."

Macavity considered the rain of fire outside. "Any suggestions on how we get there?" he offered.

Munkustrap hesitated, considering that, "I think I know a back route, a sheltered one."

"You think?"  Coricopat frowned at that.

"I haven't used it in a while, for all I know it's changed."

"Ain't that reassuring," Macavity muttered and Tugger considered his glass mournfully, really wishing he could drink it.

Munkustrap crossed to the bar and grabbed his brother's arm, "Come on, we're going to the museum."  He pulled Tugger with him toward a back entrance of the hotel.

Coricoapt frowned at Macavity, "He's going to get us killed."

Tugger followed, stumbling in his steps slightly as Macavity shrugged. "That ain't news," he murmured, before following as well.

Coricopat sighed before following to try and prevent them from actually ending up dead.

A harrowing trip through the back alleys of Cairo later, they reached the museum and Munkustrap led the way through the still destroyed library to the curator's office, "Mr. Jones?"

Mistoffelees looked up from where he had braced his arms against the desk, Jones blinking over. They looked frozen in the middle of a fight and suddenly Macavity understand the sounds of yelling he'd heard on their approach--he had simply assumed they were people still screaming in the streets.

"Munkustrap," Jones said, voice going bland. "Can I help you?"

Munkustrap's eyes were locked on Mistoffelees, as he ignored his employer for the moment, " _Jones_ is your contact?"

Mistoffelees shrugged, stepping back and crossing his arms over his chest in a smooth motion, closing down in himself quickly and efficiently. "Yes."

"So he's part of your tribe then.  I was coming to ask if he had any suggestions in this situation, but it appears you've already had a row about that," Munkustrap said quietly.

Coricopat spoke before anyone could answer, "The waters have changed and there's fire raining from the sky now, in case the two of you have been locked in this office too long to see it."

"We could tell," Jones said, his tone as icy as Mistoffelees' had been. "You're the one then, which raised this creature?" he asked, looking at Munkustrap. "I should have known it would have been you."

The young Englishman managed not to flinch at that, managing to hold his ground, "Yes.  I raised it.  And I intend to put it back in the ground again."

"And how," Jones asked, leaning forward and folding his hands on his heavy wood desk. "Do you intend to achieve such a thing?"

"The book of Amun-Ra was missing from the statue of Anubis, the book of the Dead was there in its place.  Theoretically, what we'll need to undo what the book of the dead brought about will be in the book of Amun-Ra," Munkustrap answered promptly.

Macavity looked over at him in surprise.

"And would that book be in the place where the Book of the Dead was supposed to rest?" Mistoffelees asked.

Munkustrap hesitated, but nodded, "Yes.  I've been trying to find a translation of where the Book of the Dead is supposed to be resting.  Unfortunately, it appears no one's yet translated it into a book though I know I’ve seen the location written somewhere."

"In the museum!" Tugger said, startling as if coming back to himself. "I'm sure there's something about it there on some tablet or something hanging on the wall."

Jones gave him an arched look before nodding. "I told you not to go there," he added, leveling Munkustrap with another look.

"Yes, you did."  Munkustrap nodded, "But I went anyway, I managed to wake the thing u, and frankly I would appreciate finding out if there's a way to stop it before it turns me into its chosen human sacrifice,” his tone rose sharply at the end of his confession.

"His what?" Mistoffelees asked, looking over.

"When he, when he cornered me in the city, he said I would be a fitting sacrifice to bring, remind me, Griddlebone back to him."  Munkustrap hesitated, "Actually he said the Prince would be, but considering he was leering at me as much as a rotting corpse can..."

"The Prince?" Mistoffelees asked, voice raising slightly in pitch as he exchanged a quick, almost panicked look with Jones before they both snapped their gaze back to Munkustrap.

Munkustrap took a half-step back at their expressions, "I was a bit panicked at that point, but I think that was the correct translation."

Coricopat's brow rose slightly, "What does that title mean to you two?"

"Nothing," Jones replied and Mistoffelees nodded to back him up. Neither were convincing.

"Come," Mistoffelees said, motioning to Tugger. "Where is this panel you think holds the answer."

Glancing at Macavity, Munkustrap took a step nearer to his brother and nodded toward the museum, "Which display, Tug?"

Tugger looked at where everyone was watching him, swallowing obviously before leading the way through the winding passage way, stopping in front of a grey stone filled to the brim with old Egyptian writing, motioning to it. "This, I think. I just remember the different books were on it."

Coricopat's gaze swept over the stone, "That's rather a lot of an ancient language to translate and go through..."  Waving at him to be quiet, Munkustrap stepped up to the stone, running his finger down the carving, while careful not to touch the stone, looking for any reference to the city or to either of the books.

Bustopher Jones sat himself on the throne nearby, which had been Seti I's according to the placard sitting next to it. He looked over at Mistoffelees, who glanced away.

"Finding anything?" Macavity asked, trying not to crowd against Munkustrap but desperately wanting to.

"I'm not sure yet.  There was a brief reference to the Book of the Dead's apparent ability to bring the dead to life," he winced at that.  "But beyond stating that the Book of Amun-Ra will do the opposite, I still don't have locations."

Coricopat leaned against the wall, his grey eyes moving to Jones and Mistoffelees, "It might just be a crazy idea, but if we pull this off, perhaps it would be best to put the Book of the Dead somewhere not right over the cursed undead non-mummified mummy?"

"Perhaps," Mistoffelees agreed and Jones narrowed his eyes at him.

"And who are you?" he demanded, Mistoffelees trying to hide his wince.

"I'm here to make sure that one," the Englishman nodded at Macavity, "doesn't get killed."

"And who is he?" Jones pressed.

"His name's Macavity.  He's saved my neck more times than I would care to count," Coricopat answered while carefully providing no useful information beyond a first name.

"He is also one of the only people to walk away into the desert from Hamunaptra," Mistoffelees said quietly. "And survive the desert. And return."

Jones' eyes snapped to him. "And you allowed this?" he demanded in anger and Mistoffelees looked down.

"When it comes to Macavity and escaping death, there's no man alive who's managed to stop him so far," Coricopat responded, coolly, his gaze locked on Jones.

Macavity laughed then, the sound with the edge of hysteria. "Couldn't have said it better myself."

Jones gaze at him coldly. "Then I would hope your pattern continues to hold up as such."

Munkustrap smiled faintly, drawing back from the stone and interrupting them, "The book of Amun-Ra, if it's where the Book of the Dead was supposed to be, should be buried beneath the statue of Horus."

Coricopat finally looked in that direction, "Let me guess, back in that charming city."

"Where else?" Macavity murmured and Tugger looked outside.

"We'll need supplies," he said. "Which are back at the hotel."

"Should we leave Demeter and Genghis here?" Macavity asked and Mistoffelees seemed to consider, trying to figure out what would be the best answer.

"The creature is more likely to hunt them first, isn't it?" Coricopat asked.

"Yes?" Mistoffelees offered, trying to figure out if that was for or against.

Pausing for a moment, Coricopat spoke quietly, "Then it would be in our best interest not to bring them along.  While he's hunting them, he's not stopping us from obtaining the second book."

Mistoffelees' eyes narrowed slightly. "Though we may be leaving them in danger, to face him alone."

"There's no 'may' about it," Coricopat answered.  "We most certainly are doing so."

"What?" Mistoffelees demanded, stepping forward, though he had to tilt his head back to keep eye contact. "And when did this become your decision?"

"It hasn't yet.  I said it would be in our interest to leave at least one of them behind."

"To do so would be to leave one or both of them to their deaths," Mistoffelees said, voice quiet. "You're awfully quick to sacrifice them."

"And what would you suggest then?" Coricopat responded, expression remaining impassive.

"At least take some time to think about it!" Mistoffelees returned, angrily.

"We don't have time!  Or did you miss that part?"

"I promised them I would protect them!" Mistoffelees returned, Jones looking between the two with a strange expression. "If the creature gets a hold of them we will be facing a creature more powerful then you could imagine rather than simply a regenerating corpse. He may follow after them but at least he will still be slow, like any other mortal rather than being able to control the desert itself!"

Coricopat drew a deep breath, "So what you're suggesting is to bring them along with us to the very place where he was buried, where he's likely to find more power should he get his hands on them?"

Munkustrap cut in, "We don't have time for this.  You say he travels like a mortal for now?"

"Unless he kills them," Mistoffelees replied, look dark and angry.

The librarian nodded once, "Then that clinches it.  If he can't travel faster than we can at this time, we take them with us.  We leave now, before he catches wind of it and we pray we reach Hamunaptra with time to spare.  Are there any disagreements with this?"  When Coricopat opened his mouth, Munkustrap glared at him, "We've heard your opinion quite well enough already, sir."

Mistoffelees simply shook his head. "Good," Macavity declared, moving to stand behind Munkustrap to show his support. "We should go then."

Coricopat kept his mouth shut, nodding slightly in agreement.  Munkustrap headed for the entrance they'd used so as to lead them back the way they'd come, "Come on, best to hurry."

As they moved quickly to depart, Jones stopped Mistoffelees by touching his arm, holding him back for just a moment. "Be careful," he said softly. "For your own sake, and mine, as much as for the world."

"I will," Mistoffelees assured him.

o-o-o-o

As soon as they reached the hotel, Munkustrap slipped up the stairs, dragging Macavity with him to locate Demeter and Genghis and let them know what was going on.  He left it to the others to see to the supplies and make sure the animals were ready to travel again as well.

Tumblebrutus passed them on his way down the stairs, offering the two men a long look and crossing quickly to his leader's side, "Mistoffelees, where have you been?  The creature’s been here, Carbucketty's dead, and since this lot went running off so is Demeter.  He narrowly missed getting Genghis too.  Where have you been?"

"You know where," he replied, face paling. "Where is he now?" he demanded, Jemima leading Genghis down the stairs.

"Luckily, the hotel has a cat in residence," she replied. "He ran off when he saw it."

"A cat?"  Munkustrap had turned to follow Tumble and stood at the base of the stairs, casting a worried look in Genghis' direction.  "Why a cat?"

"They guard the underworld," Jemima replied. "He fears they will attempt to take him back there."

Mistoffelees took a deep breath, nodding. "We must leave."

Munkustrap nodded once, "Is everyone who is coming with us accounted for?"

"I suppose so," Mistoffelees said, glancing at Genghis before nodding.

Genghis was extremely pale, "Where...where are we going?"

"Back to the city," Mistoffelees replied, nodding to Tumblebrutus and Jemima.

The American's eyes widened, "You're out of your goddamned minds.  You mean to go right back where this thing's from?"

"We mean to go back to where there might be a way to stop it," Munkustrap corrected.

"There's another book, besides the one that your Egyptologist discovered," Mistoffelees explained. "It would be the only way to stop him."

"You're sure about this?" Genghis looked wary.

Munkustrap nodded without hesitation, "It's our best chance."

"Yes," Mistoffelees said at the same time. "We are."

"I'm taking a hell of a lot on faith right now, but if you think it'll stop the bastard, then let's get a move on," Genghis responded.

Nodding, Mistoffelees made a quick few hand motions to his fellow tribe members who nodded before slipping away to gather what little else they would need.

Coricopat stationed himself near the door for when the other two returned, he had decided that remaining silent for the time being was a far better plan than airing his thoughts again. Glancing over at Coricopat, Mistoffelees focused instead on Genghis. "It'll be fine," he attempted to sooth, posture belaying that effect. "We will find what we need to bind him again."

The Englishman arched an eyebrow at that, "Will we find it in time though?"

Mistoffelees narrowed his eyes at him. "Yes," he said, much more firmly then he currently was feeling.

Coricopat offered him a skeptical look, but nodded and turned his gaze back toward Genghis, "Alright, in that case we apparently will."

"What is your problem?" Mistoffelees hissed, whirling on Coricopat as something crashed, Plato falling down the stairs, Growltiger sweeping down after him.

Compared to his previous state, his skin had mostly returned to its human, lightly browned state, only his jaw showing signs of the decay that had once been his entire body. The robe he'd been wearing hung off his shoulders, revealing a broad chest.

Coricopat's eyes widened at the sight of Growltiger even as Genghis scrambled back as far from the stairs as he could get.  Munkustrap took several paces further from that area, keeping his gaze focused on the former priest.

Eyes snapping wide, Mistoffelees darted in front of Genghis, drawing daggers from the folds of his black tunic, sinking into a defensive stance as Macavity swore, revolvers coming out even though they'd do no good.

Growltiger smirked at all of those preparations, sweeping a hand out as he advanced down the stairs and using it to catch Mistoffelees around the throat, even as a dagger darted into his mostly regenerated arm. Smiling again, he lifted the warrior, noticing the markings on his face, and tossed him aside, still advancing.

Coricopat paused for a half a second before darting to Mistoffelees' side to make sure he was alright.  Genghis backed away from the creature in front of him, stumbling around a table and chairs until his back was pressed to the wall.

Mistoffelees groaned, trying to sit up as Macavity threw himself toward Growltiger, being shoved aside as well.

Helping Mistoffelees to sit up, Coricopat glanced toward Macavity.  Before he could make a decision about his friend Munkustrap reached the red-head's side.  Genghis looked around frantically, trying to find any sort of escape route--finding none he turned back to face Growltiger, pressing further back against the wall.

Jemima appeared at the top of the stairs, holding the same white cat she'd throw into the mummy's face earlier. This time she had to toss the cat down the stairs toward Growltiger, but even then he reached forward to Genghis' chest, placing his hand there and drawing Genghis out, leaving behind only a shriveled husk against the wall.

Munkustrap recoiled at the sight of Genghis' remains but swept the cat up as it made for the door, ignoring as it bit and scratched. Except now that he was fully regenerated, Growltiger no longer feared the gate keepers of the underworld. Smirking, mouth fully formed again, he approached Munkustrap.

The librarian took a step backward for each that the priest took forward, his blue eyes never leaving Growltiger. "Stay the hell away from my boy!" Macavity snarled, firing again which was simply shrugged off.

Growltiger started speaking, holding a hand out to Munkustrap. Plato, propping himself up against the wall from his fall down the stairs translated. "Take his hand and he will spare the others."

Munkustrap eyed the hand, taking another half-step back, "Why do I doubt that?"

Plato shrugged and Growltiger continued. "He says to come with him, little prince. It is time you did something useful, and he will make you immortal to bring back his love."

"Not quite what he said, but we'll call it close," Munkustrap murmured.  He glanced at Macavity, "You'd better figure the book out quickly.  If he pulls this off, you're the first person I'm coming after to haunt or kill as the mood and form takes me."  He turned his gaze back to Growltiger, steeled himself, and placed his hand in the other's grip.

Yelling, Macavity darted forward to try and yank Munkustrap away, even as Growltiger reached out, plucking the key from Tugger who had been standing behind Macavity before gathering Plato up and disappearing out the door in a blaze of a sandstorm.

Coricopat carefully helped Mistoffelees to his feet as Tumble entered the hotel again, "The horses are--" he broke off, looking around, "Are not going to be fast enough are they?"

"No," Mistoffelees said, cradling his head.

"How are we getting there in time?"  he asked his leader.

Coricopat glanced at Macavity, "Skimble was in here earlier.  Do you think he's still got that old death-trap of his?"

"I'm sure he does," Macavity agreed. "Let's go."

"How many will it hold?" Jemima asked as Tugger stared after where his brother disappeared in shock.

"There's room for the pilot, a gunner and it's possible we can tie some people on the wings," Coricopat answered.

Mistoffelees looked at Jemima and Tumble, considering Jemima's shoulder as well. "Ride back to the tribe," he said. "If the world is still here."

Tumble nodded slightly in acknowledgement, "May the world still be there when we arrive."

"We all need to be going if the plan is for the world to remain in existence," Coricopat spoke, starting toward the door.

Mistoffelees clasped both Jemima and Tumble on the shoulder before nodding and taking off after Coricopat. Looking over at Tugger, Macavity placed a hand on his shoulder, guiding him out. "You know, since I've met you my luck has been for crap."

"Yes," Tugger said, tone dead. "I know. I do that to people."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All evidence to the contrary, we did not lose track of Martin in this story. He just wisely removed himself from the area of danger and will return in the sequel (if/when we write it).


	7. Just Start Reading and Anything Could Happen

They found Skimbleshanks sitting under an awning beside an old bi-plane from the War.  He looked up as they approached, "Ah, Coricopat, Macavity, it's good to see you lads."

"And you, of course," Macavity said with a strained smile, Mistoffelees having crossed his arms over his chest, black tunic billowing in the wind.

"What can I do for you, lads?"  Skimble glanced between the group.

"We've got a bit of a problem that we think you can help us out with," Coricopat answered.

The former air corpsman considered him, "Is it dangerous?"

"None of us will probably live through it," Macavity shrugged, Mistoffelees giving him a long look from where he was still standing defensively.

Skimble perked up at that, "Really?"

"Everyone else has died so far," Coricopat answered.

Getting to his feet, the older man looked between them, "What's the challenge and where are we going?"

Mistoffelees and Tugger exchanged a look as Macavity shrugged, crossing his arms, cupping one of his elbows with one hand, the other waving as he spoke. "To save the, well, not damsel but the romantic figure of the piece, kill the bad guy, and hopefully pick up some treasure along the way. Think you're up for that?"

"At your service, sir!" Skimble replied, nearly bouncing on his heels at the news. "There's rather a lot of you. Two on one wing, Coricopat you haven't been eating enough again, you and the short fellow on one, that one on the other, Macavity you're gunner."

"Of course I'm gunner," Macavity replied with a smirk and Mistoffelees shot Coricopat a concerned, discontent look at that idea. Tugger eyed the plane warily.

"You want to go... on that?" he managed.

"Come along," Macavity said, planting a hand on his back and shoving him along.

"It flies," Coricopat assured quietly as Skimble moved to get the plane ready for take-off.

"I don't believe any of you," Tugger replied, Mistoffelees stumbling slightly as they approached.

Coricopat paused at the edge of the wing, offering Mistoffelees a glance and considering the merits of catching up later rather than end up so close to the other for the flight.  He finally shook his head and hefted himself up onto the wing, offering the nomad a hand to help him up.

Crossing his arms for a moment, Mistoffelees considered him before ignoring the hand and scrambling up himself, Tugger muttering darkly on the other wing about the whole affair and how maybe his brother wasn't worth it.

The Englishman paused, watching Mistoffelees for a moment before getting situated for the flight.  Less than a quarter hour later they were all in position and the plane was taking off, Skimble following the directions Macavity gave him.

Glancing over every once and a while, Macavity made sure no one had fallen off the plane, even as a sand devil approached the city of Hamunaptra at sunrise.

Munkustrap and Plato fell out of the sand devil before it solidified and formed itself into Growltiger.  Munkustrap picked himself up, shaking his hair out and looking around to catch his bearings, "Oh dear Lord, we're here..."

Plato blinked up as well, before tilting his head further back at the sound of a plane.

Turning to locate the source of the sound, Munkustrap breathed a soft sigh of relief, "Mac."

Plato's eyes widened, and Growltiger looked up in some surprise before smirking. Striding forward, his robes once again sweeping out behind him, he stood at the top of a dune, unhinging his jaw and letting out a shriek.

At the sound of his voice, a wall of sand rose suddenly and swept toward the plane. "No!" Munkustrap startled forward, yanking on Growltiger's arm as the storm enveloped the plane.

Seeing the storm approach, Mistoffelees balked. "Son of a--" Macavity started.

Skimble's eyes widened, but he grinned, "Hang on, men."  He sent the plane into a dive, pulling out of it and turning the plane away from the storm, still heading toward the city.  The storm caught them, buffeting the plane about and jamming the propeller.  Coricopat braced himself as the plane took yet another dive, this time entirely uncontrolled.

Macavity tried shooting a few times into the storm, not achieving much but feeling slightly better about it anyway.

Munkustrap shot a panicked glance toward where the plane was caught in the storm before bracing himself and slamming his fist into Growltiger's stomach, sweeping an instinctive kick at the priest's knees, hoping to distract him enough for the storm to subside.

Growltiger's head snapped over to him, and though he stumbled back slightly his concentration not broken in the least. Hesitating for the briefest of moments, and judging the risk to be worth it, Munkustrap took a step forward and pressed a forceful kiss on the priest.  He'd spent perhaps a day too long around Macavity, but if it kept the plane from destruction it might be worth it.

That shocked Growltiger out of his concentration, though he shoved Munkustrap away, holding him by the shoulders, laughing. "Have far the princes have fallen," he sneered, pressing another harsh kiss to Munkustrap's mouth before considering where the plane had gotten itself to.

Munkustrap yanked away from him, wiping his mouth off with a sneer before looking in the direction where the plane had been, only to see a cloud of smoke rising from what had to be wreckage, "God, no..."

Growltiger smirked again before striding back into the city, Plato gaping at the smoldering ruins as well, something like grief on his face before following.

Munkustrap's gaze moved back to the smoke before looking up toward the ridge where Mistoffelees' tribe could normally be seen.  No help from either front would be coming.  He drew a deep breath and followed Plato and Growltiger, his brain working overtime for a way out.

Over at the crashed plane, Macavity hauled himself out of the gunner's compartment, looking around and rubbing the back of his head. Mistoffelees had slipped off the wing and was helping Tugger down, from where he was still tangled up.

Coricopat had gotten himself untangled from the wing and turned his attention to Skimble.  He paused when he saw how still the other man was, checking for a pulse.  He sighed, and rose, jumping down from the wing, "He's gone."

Glancing over, Mistoffelees paused before bowing his head. "We need to move," he said, shoving Tugger over toward the sand. "The sand will soon swallow this."

"At least he died happily," Coricopat murmured as they reached safe ground.  "We'd best move quickly if we're going to reach the city before he starts the ritual."

Macavity considered the sand and plane another moment. "I feel like there should be... something," he muttered, "Some marker."

"We will mark it," Mistoffelees replied. "My people have marked many such moments. We must go."

Coricopat nodded slightly, agreeing with both of them, "Come along.  Mistoffelees, do you happen to know exactly where the statue of Horus is?"

"I believe so," he said, still striding forward.

Tugger nodded, crossing his arms over his chest as he stumbled along. "So what does the statue look like?" Macavity asked.

"Horus was the falcon-headed god, wasn't he?"  Coricopat asked, glancing at Mistoffelees.

"Yes," Mistoffelees replied. "It makes sense, that the book of Amun-Ra was buried with him rather than Anubis."

They entered the outskirts of the city, Coricopat's gaze sweeping around the ruins, "What is likely to be the nearest entrance to the statue?"

Mistoffelees pointed, leading the way down through another crevice, on the other side of the ruins from where Anubis was.

Coricopat lit a torch, handing it to Macavity and lighting another one, "Lead on, Mistoffelees."

Mistoffelees glanced over at him, not quite commenting on the fact he already was leading them, simply walking faster. "We'll need a way to get the statue open."

"Will there be booby traps like last time?" Tugger asked, looking a little queasy still.

"Not for Horus," Mistoffelees shook his head. "At least, not in the same manner."

"That's not so much with the reassuring," Tugger said under his breath.

"What sort are we likely looking at for Horus?" Coricopat asked warily.

"Disarmable ones," the nomad replied, ducking around a corner.

"Well, that's promising at least," the Englishman muttered under his breath.

Mistoffelees shot him a dark look before turning around another corner and pointing. "There," he said. "If you can get the compartment open, I shall see to any of the traps."

"And the likelihood of the compartment being booby-trapped?"  Coricopat asked even as he stepped forward, handing the torch he was holding to Tugger.

"It's Horus," Mistoffelees said, as if that explained everything, and shrugged. The other eyed him but took him at his word, starting on the compartment, sparing a momentary glance for Macavity.

The American had an almost blank expression on his face as he went to work on the compartment with a pry bar he'd picked up as they walked through the city, having probably been abandoned by the excavators when they fled earlier. He was so focused on saving Munkustrap nothing else seemed to matter, even the thought of booby traps. Tugger hung around the back, desire to help his brother warring with his self-preservation.

Coricopat focused on the work, sending glances toward his friend every couple of moments in concern.  He'd seen Macavity reckless, but never had he seen the man like he was now. He'd follow Macavity to hell and back, and had what felt like twice now, but with what they were going to face now, he wasn't certain about following the other.  He’d defend Macavity from anything he could, but didn’t entirely trust the other man to lead anyone.

Hands tracing over the writing on the base of the statue, Mistoffelees leaned over, finding a hidden catch at the bottom. "Try to open it now," he said, finally paying attention to what they were doing and blinking when he realized they had been actively trying to open it already. "Oh. Well, it should be safe."

That earned him a long look from Coricopat, "Thank you for that."  He gave one final wrench on his side, feeling the compartment open slightly, finally falling open at an equal pressure on the other side.  He sprang back as a small handful of scarabs scurried out of the base of the statue.

Macavity sprung back as Tugger yelped, trying to climb the statue as Macavity used the scarabs for target practice, Mistoffelees tossing daggers at them, pinning a couple.

Coricopat took aim and fired, taking out a couple of the scarabs as he backed off, "I'm assuming the booby trap would have been more deadly than flesh eating bugs?"

"There's too few of them," Mistoffelees said, pinning another against the wall with a knife, frowning as it squealed once and died. "They must have squeezed in there and been trapped for years."

"Well, now that we've managed to cause echoing sounds throughout these halls, we'd better move fast," Coricopat said, pulling the chest inside the compartment out and withdrawing a wrapped book from inside it.

Mistoffelees' eyes settled on the book, trying not to appear like he desperately wanted to see what his tribe had been guarding for so long. "T-then we should move."

Yanking the wrapping off of the book, Coricopat swore softly, "It's locked, and we've lost the key."

Mistoffelees peered at it. "The creature has it," he said, trying not to reach out and touch it. "We should go."

Coricopat traced the inscription on the cover of the book and nodded, "Which way to the right chamber?"

Mistoffelees pointed the other way from where they came and stepped back as shadows approached, a troop of mummies, the fallen priests having risen. Startling back slightly at that, Coricopat's eyes widened, "What the hell are those?"

"His priests. They were mummified alive with him," Mistoffelees replied, Tugger gaping at him as Macavity started taking aim, making sure to try to take off heads and legs, knowing he couldn't kill them.

"Alive?" Tugger squeaked, ignoring the bigger issues of mummies coming toward them, focusing on the horrifying idea of being mummified alive.

Coricopat shoved the book into Tugger's hands, "Don't lose this."  With that instruction he turned and took careful but quick aim, working with Macavity to dismember the mummies as much as possible.

Mistoffelees glanced around the room, twin blades out again. "This way," he said, motioning to another passage. "It may take longer but we should find ourselves there quickly enough."

Coricopat nodded, firing once more as they followed Mistoffelees down the corridor, "Tugger can you read Ancient Egyptian?"

"Somewhat?" he replied. "I mean, of course, but under pressure?"

"You're going to have to perform under pressure," Macavity grunted, finally seeming to snap at least somewhat out of his blank state when he was able to shoot at things.

"If you can read it at all, it's the best we have at the moment.  We're going to try to get your brother away first, but we may need to fall back on your reading."

Tugger blinked and nodded, Mistoffelees taking a quick corner. "This way," he said, cutting off the legs and head of another stray mummy, leaving it to try and gather its pieces back together as it shrieked after them. Coricopat tossed the head back around the corner they'd come around as he followed Mistoffelees.

o-o-o-o

Growltiger had reached the altar, deep underground where he had once before tried to raise his fallen lover so many thousands of years ago. Striding into the room, Plato and Munkustrap still stumbling behind him, he looked over at the pool in the middle of the floor and then over to where there was a low stone altar.

Munkustrap froze at the sight, an image from his dreams echoing back to him briefly.  He took a step back toward the entrance of the room, hoping that he could slip out unnoticed.

Plato moved to block him. "Not nearly so fast. The master still needs your heart."

"Yours will do just as well, I'm sure," he replied quietly, eyes narrowed.

"Apparently not," Plato shrugged. "Besides, I serve."

"You do realize that by choosing to serve him, you're almost certainly dooming yourself to a horrible death of some sort, of course," Munkustrap responded, side stepping and still trying to get to the door.

Plato caught him and yanked him forward again. "If you say so."

Struggling against the other, the librarian nearly broke away, but the other's grip was just barely too firm. Dragged to the altar beside the pool, Munkustrap froze at the sight of the chains attached to the half nearest the pool.

Turning, Growltiger smirked at him, taking Munkustrap's arm and dragging him away from Plato to toss at the altar as several of the mummies dragged up the mummified body of Griddlebone to place beside him. "Come now, my prince," Growltiger sneered. "Time to be of use."

Munkustrap snarled, struggling even as the shackles were fastened securely on his wrists and ankles, "Stop calling me that."

"But you are," Growltiger said, bracing his arm above Munkustrap's head and leaning down. "Thousands of years don't make a difference to your blood." He paused, head hovering inches away from Munkustrap before smirking and drawing back, reaching into his robe to withdraw the key and unlocking the book, barking out a few orders to his mummies.

His gaze moving to the key, Munkustrap drew a deep breath and glanced toward the different entrances to the chamber.  All he could do was hope against hope that the other would arrive in time, the chains holding him had no give in them, try though he might to loosen them.

As the priests began to gather around the altar, Plato paused, looking around before deciding his life would be best served elsewhere, slipping out to see if he could find the treasure room.

As the priests gathered around and began to chant and Growltiger began to read from the Book of the Dead, the surface of the pool stirred.  Slowly a dark mist swept up out of it and through the canopic jars that had been collected via the death of the Americans.  Passing over Munkustrap, the mist coalesced and settled on the mummified remains of Griddlebone.

With a jolt, Griddlebone's eyelids snapped open and she gasped, turning to look at Munkustrap.  He recoiled in revulsion and felt his panic mount as her mouth opened into a grin.

Smirking as well, one hand reaching out to smooth across Griddlebone's cheek, Growltiger raised his other hand holding the dagger. "With your death, my love will be made whole again," he murmured in Ancient Egyptian as suddenly Tugger burst into the room.

"I found it!" he said, holding the book aloft, even though he didn't find it that currently wasn't the point.

Munkustrap's gaze darted in that direction and immediately back to the knife in the high priest's hand, "Wonderful, now get me off this goddamned altar! _Now_!"

"Right," Tugger said, realizing what he'd just walked in on as the others streamed past him, Macavity wading toward the altar with his guns out as Mistoffelees headed straight for the creature. Tugger flinched back, with the book as several of the mummies turned toward him.

Coricopat pushed past Tugger, taking aim at the mummies and growling at the other Englishman, "Read the bloody outer inscription for a start. That should distract them a bit."  He descended the stairs, firing into the oncoming mummies as he tried to fight his way toward Macavity to back his friend up.

"I'm not sure that's a good idea!" Tugger called back, ducking around a pillar to avoid the priest following him. "Who knows what it'll do?"

Reaching Munkustrap, Macavity kicked the head off one of the priests, leaning down to try and rattle the chains, and when he couldn't pull them off he leaned back to try and shoot them apart.

Munkustrap flinched at the sound of a bullet ricocheting off of the altar, "If you miss the chains and hit my hands I'll strangle you, Macavity."

Coricopat ducked under the grab of another priest, coming up with the mummy's blade and spinning it, causing the head to go spinning across the chamber, "Mac, here!"

"That could help," Macavity remarked, catching it and applying the sword to the chains. "Besides, would threatening to strangle me at this point in time be really effective?"

Growltiger just smirked as Mistoffelees approached. "Again?" he asked, voice amused.

"Always," Mistoffelees replied in Ancient Egyptian, ducking below Growltiger's arm as the other went to throw him away again.

Munkustrap drew his hands away as the chains were severed, "Well, it changed your tactic."

Coricopat ducked under another mummy, disarming it and using the sword on its arm, sending the limb skittering away with a kick as the Englishman turned to see if he could aid Mistoffelees.

Mistoffelees' greatest achievement so far had been distracting the immortal creature, as even when his swords found their target, the creature's skin would heal shortly enough. Finally, he put his foot wrong, almost tripping backwards and Growltiger hit him in the stomach hard enough to send him across the room, though this time he expected it and was able to roll to a stop and spring back up. 

"It's still not a good tactic," Macavity muttered, shooting one of the priests with one hand as he used the sword in the other to cut the last chain. "Come on," he said, dragging Munkustrap up only to have to turn and fend off several more of the mummies.

As Munkustrap started to go to help Macavity he felt himself grabbed from behind and spun around.  Taking a solid step back, he found himself face to face with Griddlebone's mummy.  He dodged her next grab, trying to place the altar between the two of them, but she followed far more quickly than he expected for someone who had been entombed for thousands of years.  Backing quickly he sought for any sort of weapon, finally getting a hold of a discarded sword and bringing it sweeping up in time to counter a thrust from a blade that the mummy had obtained from a bodiless arm of one of the priests.  His gaze darted to where Tugger was, "Tugger, you've got the book, do something!"

"Like what?" he yelped, trying to dodge several mummies himself, looking for Growltiger who was still sparring with Mistoffelees, and who still had the key. "I just start reading and anything could happen!"

"Read the damned book!" Mistoffelees yelped, barely ducking under Growltigers hands which were reaching for his throat.

Munkustrap was being rapidly backed against a wall by Griddlebone who even in her current state was more proficient with a sword than he was, "What he said.  Do it now, Tugger!"

Looking around desperately Tugger started reading, stumbling over a few words. He had no real speaking knowledge of the language though he seemed to understand the basics of the written well enough. As he stumbled over the different words, trying to sound them out. When he reached the end of the first part of the inscription, still dodging priests, a wall blew out, and mummified bodyguards of the Pharaoh appeared.

Both Mistoffelees and Growltiger froze, looking at them for a moment.

Growltiger recovered first, stepping forward and commanding the bodyguards to attack the intruders, pointing to Macavity and the British, knowing better then to attempt to convince them to attack one of their heirs.

"Finish the inscription!" Mistoffelees yelled as the soldiers advanced on the others. "It will give you the control he currently he has!" He yelped as Growltiger turned back to him, having acquired his sword which he brought down on Mistoffelees' head, the nomad bringing his swords up in an X over his head to stop the downward blow.

Coricopat stumbled backward at the appearance of the latest mummies.  His gaze darted between Macavity and Mistoffelees and he ducked past some of Growltiger's priests, leaving them between himself and the newest arrivals. He took aim and fired his last bullet, lodging it in the back of Growltiger's left shoulder.  He ducked another swing from one of the priests, wrenching it's weapon away and using it against the mummy before continuing to fight his way across the chamber in Mistoffelees' direction.

Griddlebone's head had turned briefly in the direction of the bodyguards, giving Munkustrap the chance to push her back and re-engage the fight slightly more on his own terms.

Tugger scrambled to finish the words, moving quickly and stopping. "I don't, I don't recognize the last symbol!" he practically screamed, hiding in a corner as Macavity found himself facing the soldiers rather than the priests.

"Oh, this'll be fun..."

Munkustrap countered another blow from Griddlebone's blade, finding himself backed up against a pillar, "What's it look like?"

"It's an Ankh symbol, with two little squiggly lines above it, and...and  a bird, a stork I think! And the stork is on either side!" Tugger yelled, running backwards until he ran into a wall and ducking away from a mummy.

His brother sought his memory, remembering the symbol as Griddlebone blocked a sweep of his blade, countering with a swipe aimed at his throat, "Ahmenophus!"

"Ah," Tugger said. "Ahmenophus!" he called out for good measure and all the bodyguard mummies stopped and turned toward him, waiting for orders. "Kill!" he said, waving a hand and all the mummies still moving, and the priests all cowered down slightly as the soldier mummies turned on them, attacking them as well as Griddlebone's mummy.

Munkustrap dodged aside to avoid being skewered as they impaled Griddlebone's remains.  The same mist which had revived her rose from her form and sank back into the pool, her body going still once more.

Growltiger shrieked them, actually catching Mistoffelees and throwing him across the room to get him out of the way, where he hit a wall and collapsed on the floor.

The nomad out of the way, Growltiger advanced on Tugger, whose eyes widened as he started scurrying backward again.

Coricopat hesitated for the briefest of moments before darting to Mistoffelees' side, kneeling down beside him and checking to make sure he was still breathing at least.  In the same instant, Munkustrap dodged around where the last of the priests were battling the bodyguards and started in Growltiger's direction, trying to cut him off from his brother.

Grabbing Tugger around the throat, Growltiger lifted him up and slammed him against the wall, snatching the book from him. Coming from the other direction, Macavity stabbed him through the shoulder, causing him to drop both Tugger and the book and whirl on Macavity. "Hi," Macavity said, as Growltiger punched him in the face, sending him staggering back as the creature followed.

Left alone, Tugger scurried for the book again, displaying the key from where he had picked it off the mummy, unlocking the book. Munkustrap couldn't help but smile in relief at the sight of the key and the fact that it actually worked on the book.  He darted to his brother's side, scanning the text as the book was opened.

"What are we looking for?" Tugger asked as Macavity found himself having to spar with the creature. On the other side of the chamber, Mistoffelees dragged himself to his feet, scanning the room where the soldiers were chasing down the priests still, only Growltiger still putting up a fight against all of them.

Munkustrap shook his head turning the heavy gilt pages, frantically scanning them, "I'll know when I see it."  Coricopat rose from where he'd been crouching by Mistoffelees, his gaze sweeping the chamber before returning to the nomad to make certain he was alright.

"What happened?" Mistoffelees asked, trying to steady himself on his feet.

Growltiger swept aside Macavity's sword, grabbing him from around the throat and dragging him forward, the American kicking at his legs and struggling.

"Tugger finished the inscription," Coricoapt responded. "Griddlebone's been executed again."

Munkustrap finally located the inscription they needed, reading it quickly and clearly, "Kadeesh mal! Kadeesh mal! Pared oos! Parad oos!"

Mistoffelees opened his mouth to say something and froze as Growltiger stopped, whirling on Munkustrap with an expression of terror as the pool nearby stirred and suddenly a ghostly chariot appeared out of the water, running through Growltiger and dragging off a spirit version of him struggling and screaming up the stairs and away.

Propping himself up from where he'd fallen over, Macavity looked between Munkustrap and Growltiger.

"I thought that was supposed to kill him," Coricopat murmured, eyes wide.

"It made him mortal!" Tugger yelled, having translated the passage as his brother read it. As Macavity struggled back to his feet the creature advanced on him, and he only stopped when a sword went through his chest, Mistoffelees standing on the other end of the blade.

Munkustrap moved carefully down to where the others were, ending up next to Macavity as the creature stumbled, falling into the pool--the spirits within it pulling him down as he returned to his decomposed state.

Macavity grabbed Munkustrap around the waist and held on, the book of Amun-Ra falling down into the pool after him, Growltiger smirking at the group and murmuring something before sinking under the waters, Mistoffelees swaying as if he was about to fall over.

Coricopat stepped forward, placing a steadying arm around Mistoffelees.  Munkustrap drew a deep breath, "We need to go."

"Yes," Mistoffelees agreed, leaning on Coricopat and looking up as the entire place shook. "What was that?"

"Wasn't there some legend about a lever sending the entire place to the sands?" Tugger remarked, sounding idle as everyone's attention snapped to him and he realized what he said. "We should move."

"What's the fastest way out of here?" Coricopat glanced at Mistoffelees as Munkustrap turned toward the nearest exit.

 "That way," Mistoffelees said, frowning after him. "Let's go," he said, trying to move quickly and stumbling again.

The Englishman supported Mistoffelees, helping him to move as quickly as the smaller man was able as they followed Munkustrap through the winding passages out of the city.

Walls shook around them, and doors started to sink downward, meant to trap those trying to steal the treasure inside. Skidding under a doorway, Macavity stopped, looking around in awe as they entered the treasure room, gold glittering everywhere. "Oh my," he said and Tugger's jaw dropped.

"Keep moving!" Mistoffelees yelled, even though Tugger tried to scoop up some of the gold, stuffing his pockets with it as they ran, Macavity finally just grabbing his arm and dragging him along.

Munkustrap glanced back at the others, falling back enough to help support Mistoffelees, the sand quickly encroaching on the corridors as they slipped into the last hall--daylight shining ahead of them, "We need to be well clear of the city before it finishes settling."

"Yes," Mistoffelees agreed and Macavity turned as Plato shrieked behind them.

"Wait!" he hollered.

"Run!" Macavity yelled, gesturing but not slowing down as they ran, tumbling through the last door.

The door slammed shut behind them, leaving Plato trapped inside.  Munkustrap paused for the briefest of moments at that before shaking it off and running, dodging around the falling columns and statues.

Macavity hesitated longer. "Sorry, buddy," he murmured, not wanting to think about being trapped in a city with no food and a scarab population. Shaking his head slightly, he took off after Munkustrap, Tugger whimpering along behind him at the thought of all the treasure they'd left behind.

Coricopat supported Mistoffelees, only stopping once they were well clear of the ruins, turning to look back as the last of the buildings crumbled and fell.

Stopping, Mistoffelees surveyed the ruins as they fell, watching the place he had grown up knowing collapse in front of his eyes. Macavity, Munkustrap, and Tugger staggered after them, and Tugger collapsed near the camels.

Coricopat's arm tightened ever so slightly around Mistoffelees at the destruction before them. Resting a hand on his camel's neck, Munkustrap drew an unsteady breath, "God in Heaven..."

"Well," Mistoffelees drawled. "You can't say I don't know an interesting time..."

 Macavity snorted, but Tugger was still too shell shocked at the loss of all that gold to reply in any form.

Chuckling very faintly, Coricopat shook his head, "Mummies, curses, ancient cities with area-wide booby-traps, no that's one thing we can't say."

"We did it though," Munkustrap breathed, eyes wide.  "Somehow."

"I wonder what else you might be able to say," Macavity murmured, leaning down to wrap an arm around Munkustrap's waist, simply holding on.

"All that treasure," Tugger said, voice hollow. "I finally found something, something really worth it and it's all gone..."

"Technically, you picked it, you never found it," Macavity said, narrowing his eyes at him.

"Oh let him mourn the discovery," Munkustrap murmured to the American. "The history that just went down with that place is almost enough for me to join him."

"I promise I'll give you something else to focus on," Macavity rumbled, and Mistoffelees looked up at where Coricopat was still supporting him.

Munkustrap smiled a bit at that, settling himself against Macavity's side.  Glancing at Mistoffelees, Coricopat spoke softly, "Are you doing alright?"

"Yes," he replied simply and moved to draw back, stumbling.

The Englishman caught him again, "No, you're not."  He moved carefully to support the other again, finding himself more aware of the other's proximity now that the danger had passed.

Mistoffelees blinked. "Really," he said, watching where Macavity and Munkustrap had their heads bowed together, murmuring softly and generally smiling at being alive and together. "I'm fine."

Coricopat's attention was fully on the man at his side, "Mistoffelees?"

"Yes?" he asked, eyes snapping up.

"I..." He paused for a moment, one hand moving to the other's cheek as he dismissed his uncertainties and leaned down to kiss the other almost tentatively. Mistoffelees blinked in surprise at that, returning it with the same amount of tentativeness.

Looking over, Macavity smiled before leading Munkustrap to the camels, lifting one of the saddlebags and pausing, noticing all the gold. Glancing at Tugger, his smirk only got wider.

Munkustrap swung up onto the camel, his lips twitching up slightly at the glimpse he got of the saddlebag, murmuring to Macavity, "Should we tell him?"

Coricopat drew back after a moment, his gaze searching Mistoffelees' face for a moment though he wasn't sure what he was looking for.

"After we get home," Macavity murmured, leaning across the distance to grab a quick kiss. "After he's cried it out on the journey.”

Tugger approached the camels, swinging up onto his own, still looking morose.

"Or when we get halfway," Macavity amended off his expression.

"Halfway," Munkustrap agreed.

Still standing with Coricopat, Mistoffelees offered him a tiny smile, unsure as well. "What was that?"

"That was a kiss," Coricopat hesitated.  "Was it unwelcome?"

Mistoffelees seemed to actually consider that. "No," he said quietly. "But unexpected."

"Only if you don't have eyes!" Macavity called over.

Coricopat spared his friend a frown, but turned his attention back to Mistoffelees quickly, "Unexpected?"

"I figured if you were going to, you would have," Mistoffelees explained quietly.

"I wanted to be sure it wasn't just because we were expecting to die in the next day or two," he returned softly. "Besides, beyond befriending Macavity I've never done anything quickly in my life."

"Oh," Mistoffelees said and smiled.

"So are you coming back to Cairo with us or are we leaving Cor in the desert?" Macavity called. "Because personally? I'd like to be somewhere I can collapse. And sleep for a month. Or,” he added, looking at Munkustrap again. “Not get out of bed for a month.”

Coricopat hesitated at that question, tensing slightly as he glanced from Macavity to Mistoffelees, "I...I have things I need to put in order back in Cairo."

Mistoffelees paused and looked over. "You could stay here tonight," he said, "I need to meet with the elders and discuss what has happened. Then head to Cairo by ship in the morning."

The Englishman paused at that, considering for a long moment before nodding, "That, yes, thank you."

Macavity glanced at everyone else and nodded. "I won't say no to a bed tonight. Or a bed roll. Or frankly a nice patch of sand to lie down in."

Considering the group that had raised the creature, and then done the unthinkable and put him back into his tomb, Mistoffelees smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are thoughts for a sequel to this at some juncture (radically modifying the second film). It may happen someday.


End file.
